“But does he know anything about it?” he demanded of Pantaleone. “I tell you I’m a madman,” the poor Italian wailed despairingly, almost in a shriek. “The wretched boy gave me no peace all night, and this morning at last I revealed all to him!” “So much for your _segredezza_!” thought Sanin. The carriage had got up to Emil. Sanin told the coachman to stop the horses, and called the “wretched boy” up to him. Emil approached with hesitating steps, pale as he had been on the day he fainted. He could scarcely stand. “What are you doing here?” Sanin asked him sternly. “Why aren’t you at home?” “Let … let me come with you,” faltered Emil in a trembling voice, and he clasped his hands. His teeth were chattering as in a fever. “I won’t get in your way—only take me.” “If you feel the very slightest affection or respect for me,” said Sanin, “you will go at once home or to Herr Klüber’s shop, and you won’t say one word to any one, and will wait for my return!” “Your return,” moaned Emil—and his voice quivered and broke, “but if you’re—” “Emil!” Sanin interrupted—and he pointed to the coachman, “do control yourself! Emil, please, go home! Listen to me, my dear! You say you love me. Well, I beg you!” He held out his hand to him. Emil bent forward, sobbed, pressed it to his lips, and darting away from the road, ran back towards Frankfort across country. “A noble heart too,” muttered Pantaleone; but Sanin glanced severely at him…. The old man shrank into the corner of the carriage. He was conscious of his fault; and moreover, he felt more and more bewildered every instant; could it really be he who was acting as second, who had got horses, and had made all arrangements, and had left his peaceful abode at six o’clock? Besides, his legs were stiff and aching. Sanin thought it as well to cheer him up, and he chanced on the very thing, he hit on the right word. “Where is your old spirit, Signor Cippatola? Where is _il antico valor_?” Signor Cippatola drew himself up and scowled “_Il antico valor_?” he boomed in a bass voice. “_Non è ancora spento_ (it’s not all lost yet), _il antico valor!_” He put himself in a dignified attitude, began talking of his career, of the opera, of the great tenor Garcia—and arrived at Hanau a hero. After all, if you think of it, nothing is stronger in the world … and weaker—than a word! XXII The copse in which the duel was to take place was a quarter of a mile from Hanau. Sanin and Pantaleone arrived there first, as the latter had predicted; they gave orders for the carriage to remain outside the wood, and they plunged into the shade of the rather thick and close-growing trees. They had to wait about an hour.