At this moment the door was softly opened and the servant announced "Baron
von Moudenfels."

"He is welcome, heartily welcome!" cried the colonel joyfully, swiftly
advancing toward the door, through which the person announced had just
entered the room. It was an old man with a long white beard, his head
covered with a large wig, whose stiff, powdered locks adorned the temples
on both sides of his pale, emaciated face. Thick, bushy brows shaded a pair
of large dark eyes, whose youthful fire formed a strange contrast to the
bowed frame and the white hair. His figure, which must once have been
stately and vigorous, was attired in the latest fashion, and the elegance
of his dress showed that Baron von Moudenfels, though a man perhaps
seventy, had not yet done with the vanities of this world, but was ready to
pay them homage. In his right hand, over which fell a broad lace cuff, he
held an artistically carved cane, on whose gold handle he leaned, as he
moved wearily forward, and a pin with beautiful diamonds glittered in the
huge lace jabot on his breast.

Colonel Mariage held out both hands to the old man, but the baron contented
himself with placing the finger-tips of the little hand adorned with
glittering rings in the colonel's right hand a moment, and then sank into
the armchair, panting for breath.

"Pardon me," he gasped, "but the exertion of climbing your two long flights
of stairs has exhausted my strength, and I must rest. You probably see that
I am a poor, fragile old man, who has but a few steps to take to his
grave."

"But who will probably carefully avoid them," replied the colonel,