"Then we must apply to Raoul," he said, regaining his composure. "I will send for him."
"The Count is not at home," interposed Michael.
"Then he is at the Foreign Office; I will send there instantly. This matter must be cleared up; there is not a minute to lose."
He stretched out his hand towards the bell, but suddenly paused, encountering Rodenberg's glance. There must have been something terrible in the young man's eyes, for the general slowly withdrew his outstretched hand and said, in a low tone, "What is it? Out with it!"
"I have bad news for you, Count Steinrück,--news hard to bear; you must prepare for the worst."
The general passed his hand across his forehead and gazed as if spell-bound at the speaker. "The worst? Where is Raoul?"
"Gone!--to France!"
Steinrück did not start, did not even exclaim. He put his hand to his heart without a word, and would have fallen if Michael had not supported him as he sank into a seat.
Several minutes passed thus. Michael stood silent beside the arm-chair, where the Count leaned back half unconscious. The young officer felt that any word, any offer of help, would be useless. At last he stooped over him.
"Your Excellency!"