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Her heart was full of longing; it was in truth almost bursting with longing. It was at the beginning of October that Daniel for the first time visited Eberhard in his doll house up by the castle.
Eberhard Amelungen was unable to conceal his confusion, when an officer in the uniform of the Prussian General Staff appeared at the door of his private office. Amelungen was a man about sixty years of age, a typical specimen of a substantial, respectable merchant. "I am somewhat surprised, sir," he said in measured tones. "What can I do for you?"
But there must be something quite unnatural about me, for you see that I loathe the very idea of getting married. I detest the thought of living with a man. I like you, but when you touch me as you did a little while ago when you kissed my hand, a shudder runs through my whole body.” Eberhard looked at her in astonishment; he was morose, too.
Certainly he felt sure in advance that they would find nothing, for Eberhard Amelungen would have been very foolish not to have reckoned long ago on the possibility of such a visit, and to have taken precautions accordingly. The Major, in bringing the police with him, had thought more of the moral impression of the whole procedure. His knowledge of men told him that it had its effect.
There is a picturesque story that when Eberhard lay on his death-bed his brother, instead of watching by his side, took the then completed airship from its hangar, and drove it over and around the house that the last sounds to reach the ears of his faithful ally might be the roar of the propellers in the air the grand pæan of victory.
In a belated sexual outburst, a second puberty, his imagination became inflamed by a picture which he adorned with all the perfections of both soul and body. He heard that one of Daniel’s works was to be played before invited guests at the home of Baroness von Auffenberg. He wired to Eberhard, and asked him to get him an invitation. The reply was a negative one.
Poor Eberhard, with his undaunted bravery and free reckless good-nature, a ruffian far more by education than by nature, had been much loved by his followers.
Eberhard stood still for a moment, and then said, hoarsely, "The Blessed Friedmund!
Old Sir Eberhard hobbled down to the hall in time to see weapons flashing as they were dealt out, to hear a clear decided voice giving orders, to listen to the tramp of horse, and watch more reitern pass out under the gateway than ever the castle had counted in his father's time.
People drew off gravely and silently, and Eberhard himself was strangely discomfited when he came back to the hermitage, and, wrapping Christina in his cloak, prepared to return, so soon as the glare of the fire should have faded from his eyesight enough to make it safe to tread so precipitous a path.
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