"You are fearfully hard upon me, Herr Delmar," he said, with feigned humility. "Was it magnanimous to leave me so long in torment between fear and hope? I implore you to give me a few days in which to prepare myself for the step you demand of me. I will speak with my betrothed, and will entreat her to tell me frankly whether indeed she cannot look for happiness in a life spent by my side. And if, as I fear she will, she tells me that she cannot, that she can only give me her hand without her heart, and that her promise alone binds her to me, then I can fulfil your desire honourably, Herr Delmar. Why, after keeping me waiting for weeks without pronouncing judgment against me, do you suddenly insist upon handing me over to disgrace? Only give me a few days' respite, and I promise to do your bidding." Paul's eyes gloomily sought the ground. A word of entreaty always had great weight with him; it was only where he met with resistance that he was hard. True humility and docility were sure to disarm him. Earnestly as he wished that Leo's fate should be decided, much as he desired to be at liberty to do as he pleased, it is more than probable that he would have yielded to Bertram's entreaty if a suspicion had not suddenly dawned upon him that the man meant to play him false. Why should he desire an interview with Eva? Did he hope to induce the wealthy heiress to buy her freedom from him? Such a scheme might well be attributed to the scoundrel, and Paul was convinced that Eva would be ready to sacrifice her entire fortune if by so doing the detested tie might be severed. The sudden suspicion steeled him against Bertram's entreaty, and he replied, "Not a day, not an hour, will I give you; you must decide upon the spot!" One look into Delmar's calm, resolute face convinced Bertram that he had no respite, however short, to expect; he still might perhaps succeed in moving him in another respect, and with a profound sigh he continued: "You are terribly severe and cruel with me, Herr Delmar. How have I deserved such scant mercy at your hands? In a miserable moment of my life, a prey to despair, I was led to invoke destruction upon my head by that stroke of the pen. I was half frantic. I had to choose between disgrace and death by my own hand. Love of life conquered, and I forged that signature, an act which I have repented bitterly ever since. You then saved me from merited disgrace, for which I was inexpressibly grateful to you. I felt the wrong I had done you in handing you the forged check, and I was never without a sense of devotion to you as my saviour from dishonour. And yet you are now the one to invoke disgrace upon my head. Remember how you have punished me already. You forced me to public dishonour among my comrades, to resign from the army, to destroy all my hopes in life, and now you thrust me into the abyss from which a marriage with Eva would save me.