"I appeal to your honour, colonel. I am firmly convinced that it is an unalterable axiom of yours that no man of honour can fight with a scoundrel whose word is worthless, and it is one of my axioms that no man of honour has the right to quarrel with a scoundrel with whom he cannot fight. Herr von Bertram is no opponent for you. You can no more fight with Herr von Bertram than can any words spoken by him insult your son; and, besides, there shall be not the smallest provocation for your challenge, inasmuch as the gentleman will instantly declare before all present that he recalls every offensive word addressed to your son this morning, and that he humbly begs pardon for having uttered them." Paul's words produced a truly magical effect. Bertram upon whom all eyes were fixed, stood, with downcast looks, like a condemned criminal incapable of any reply, the consciousness of guilt so manifest in his countenance that even the unsuspicious Count Waldheim was disgusted with his friend's cowardice, and stepped back leaving him standing alone. The colonel was thunderstruck. That a civilian should dare to treat an officer thus in a public place transcended his power of belief; his amazement deprived him of utterance. He looked from Bertram to Delmar. What to think of it all he did not know. But one thing was perfectly clear,--that Herr von Bertram must be a scoundrel, with whom no man of honour could condescend to fight. Delmar allowed several seconds to pass to give the old officer time to collect himself, and then continued: "Let me beg, colonel, that you will allow me to say several words to Herr von Bertram in private, after which you shall receive from him any satisfaction you may desire. Herr von Bertram, have the kindness to step into this empty room with me. You cannot but desire that what I have to say should be said in private. Go first, if you please." Paul motioned towards the glass door of a room frequented by Büchner's guests in winter or in rainy weather. Bertram entered it, and Delmar followed him. They were quite alone in the large, empty room, and could speak in low tones without being overheard, although a hundred eyes were watching them through the wide folding-doors and open windows. "You have heard what I require of you, Herr von Bertram," Delmar began the short interview. "I advise you to comply immediately, or you will force me to produce a certain worthless note, in which you promise to pay upon your word of honour, and to prove that you have broken that word by showing a certain check, bearing the signature of Count Waldheim, which I should like to have him verify." "What have I done, Delmar, to provoke you to treat a friend with such cruelty?" Bertram asked, in despair.