"You will not do that!" interrupted Hermann, gravely and sternly. "You will not misuse the knowledge which a chance possessed you of. This is a matter which concerns us men alone, and must be settled by us alone. I, for my part, will not suffer the interference of a woman here, whoever she may be, and neither my grandmother's reasoning, nor the tears and swoons of my cousin will alter my decision in the least." For the first time during the whole conversation she lifted her eyes to his with such a look of inexpressible, entreating anxiety, that the Count, who had but just before so proudly declared his inflexibility, turned suddenly away, as if he feared to succumb to a temptation. He continued speaking, but his voice was much milder, though it had lost nothing of its peculiar firmness. "I know that I impose a hard task upon you to be silent, and, perhaps, to tremble, where a word could hinder the bloody decision. I know, too, that few women are equal to such a task, but I give _you_ credit for it. My honour now demands, that the duel shall take place undisturbed, therefore I require your promise to preserve an unbroken silence towards every one until to-morrow at noon. Give me your word upon it!" He held out his hand to her; whether she actually laid hers in his, or whether he took it, Gertrud knew not, but the little hand trembled so violently that he let it fall the next moment. "Do not tremble so," said he with bitterness, "I have the first shot, and am sure of my weapon, however deeply Eugen may have angered me, I shall not forget that I once called him friend. He shall not pay for his folly with his life, even if I cannot hope for such generosity from him." Gertrud had let his bitterness pass without remark, but at his last words she lifted her head in sudden terror. Something in her countenance must have touched the Count magnetically, for his eyes suddenly lighted up, he seized both her hands, and asked in a low tone, but with quite a different expression from before, "Gertrud, why do you hate me?" The girl started violently, and a suspicious flush bathed her cheeks and brow. She tried to free herself, but he would not let her go. "From the first you have shown the most unconcealed hatred towards me, and yet, Gertrud, matters must be clear between us now. What have I done to you? Why do you hate me?" No one would have thought it possible that this cold, hard voice could melt into such soft, heart-felt tones, and Gertrud's whole being seemed to tremble under them. It is impossible to describe the emotions which played in stormy strife upon the young girl's countenance, anxiety, pain, despair, and yet behind all these, an unspeakable joy, which found vent in the single exclamation, half jubilant, and yet half like a deep cry of pain, "O, my God!"