"Of course, and he laughed in his quiet way when he told me that you had been after him, as if he meant to say: The children! They thought they could overtake me on Brownlock!" "Then that was Brownlock, of whom Bruno has told me so much! Well, now I can explain it all." "Can you? Then you will also explain it, I hope, why Baumann sat down and wrote that letter at my dictation. The old man refused, and said: A duel is no child's play, and that is carrying the joke too far. But I laughed and wept till he gave way; so he took Brownlock once more this morning and rode to town to mail the letter." "And if I had not accepted the challenge?" "Baumann asked me the same question, and I answered: Fie, are you not ashamed to say such a thing, Baumann?" Oswald laughed. "Of course! we must always be ashamed when we say or do something that does not suit the world, as it exists in your little heads." Melitta made no reply, and Oswald saw that a shadow flitted across her face. He knelt down before her and said, seizing her hand as it hung by her side: "Have I offended you, Melitta?" "No," she said, "but you would not have said so a week ago." "How do you mean?" "Come, get up! Let us go into the garden. It is hot in the house; I long to breathe the cool night air!" They went down into the garden and walked up and down, arm in arm, till they came to the low terrace, where Oswald had found Melitta when he called upon her that Sunday afternoon. They sat down under the pine-tree, which spread its branches over them as if in protection. The night was marvellously silent. The trees stood quiet, not a leaf stirring, as if they were fast asleep; fragrant perfumes filled the warm, dry air, and glow-worms were wandering through the night like bright tiny stars. "You did not answer my question, Melitta," said Oswald. "What is it the last eight days have changed in me? Am I not the same I was; only that the bitter regret at having hurt your feelings has made my love for you deeper and warmer?" Melitta made no reply; suddenly she said, speaking low and quick: "Have you seen much of him since that Sunday at Barnewitz?" "Of whom, Melitta?" "Well, of--of Baron Oldenburg. God be thanked, I have said it. It is so childish and foolish in me to have hesitated so long to speak of Oldenburg, and to tell you what our relations have been,--and yet I felt you had a right to know it, and I was bound to lift the veil from my past, wherever it might appear dark to you. This feeling grew so overwhelming in me, especially when I found that you had become intimate with the baron, that I wanted to see you at any price, and this suggested to me the foolish plan."