Rojanow plays a conspicuous part here and is to be met with
everywhere. The duke is greatly taken with him; you will be very apt to
come across him at the castle."
"And what then? I know no one who bears the name of Rojanow, and he will
not dare to know me. We will pass one another as strangers."
Wallmoden watched his friend's face closely while he was speaking; he
wondered if all feeling was dead, or if this intense coldness and
indifference were assumed.
"I believed you would have taken the news of your son's re-appearance
differently," he said, half aloud. It was the only time he used the word
"son;" he had called him Rojanow in telling the story, and he did it
with a purpose now. For the first time there was a movement from the
window, but it was a movement of anger.
"I have no son, bear that in mind, Wallmoden. He died that last night at
Burgsdorf, and the dead return no more."
Wallmoden was silent, but the colonel stepped up to him and laid his
hand heavily on his arm.
"You mentioned just now that you felt it your duty to tell the duke, but
consideration for me had kept you silent so far. I have but one thing
left to guard in the wide world, the honor of my name, and such an
explanation on your part would stain it forever. Do what you think is
best.
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