"What does that mean, Hermann? Why do you follow me secretly to pry, unasked, into my affairs? What right have you to do it?" The Count remained very calm in face of this threatening violence, but there was an icy scorn in the glance, with which he measured him from head to foot. "Can you really dare to ask why I must interfere here?" "You have insulted me!" cried Eugen, passionately, "insulted me deeply, and either you make me an apology, or give me satisfaction with a weapon in your hand!" Without honouring him with an answer, Hermann turned to Gertrud-- "Mein Fraeulein, you see that Herr von Reinert is not sufficiently master of himself to pay the necessary consideration to the presence of a lady. May I beg you to leave us?" She stood before him, pale, with downcast eyes. Where had the proud unapproachable demeanour of the maiden come from? Her eyes, which but lately had met his so firmly, so ready for conflict, sank now shyly to the ground. She bowed in mute assent, and walked away. The Count looked after her long and earnestly, then he passed his hand over his brow, and turned away. "We are alone, what do you wish to say to me?" "That I am at last tired out of being dictated to by you, of being treated like a schoolboy, and insulted. What has passed between Gertrud and me concerns no third." "Really?" The Count's voice was still calm, but passion lurked underneath it. "You may be mistaken." "It is all the same to me what you think. You have attacked me, thrown me to the ground. I demand satisfaction for this insult; do you hear, Hermann, I demand it from you!" The Count shrugged his shoulders. "A duel between us? That would indeed be more than ridiculous." "Ah, you refuse?" "Yes! It would be a poor return to my grandmother's hospitality, to shoot each other dead on her estate, added to which, Antonie is too near a relation, and I must openly confess to you, Eugen, my life and work are too valuable to me, for me to risk it for the sake of one of your mad moods. I certainly refuse." Eugen clenched his fist in boundless rage. "Hermann, you are--" "No insults!" said the Count, authoritatively, raising his hand. "I should have thought you have often enough had opportunity to test my courage. To-day's scene is the open breach of a friendship which has long existed only in name. In the future our paths must lie apart--let that be sufficient." If Hermann really wished to avoid irritating Eugen still further, he ought not to have spoken in this proud, scornful tone. It robbed him of the last particle of sense remaining to him, and drove him finally to the use of force. He came close up to the Count, and with a voice half choked with passion, he said between his teeth-- "I ask you for the last time, will you give me satisfaction?" "No!" "Well, then, I will compel you to!" He raised his hand, and the next minute a blow struck the Count.