"I beg you, sir, to spare me any further remarks," Waldheim said,
interrupting the flow of Bertram's speech; "I forbid you ever to
address me again. I awaited your approach solely for the purpose of
saying this to you. I should else have followed the example of my
comrades and turned my back upon you with contempt."
"Count Waldheim, you shall answer to me for this. I demand
satisfaction----"
"You have lost all right this day to demand satisfaction of any
gentleman; the only weapon I should use upon you is a horse-whip."
The Count spoke so loud that his words were heard by all the
by-standers. "Bravo!" they exclaimed, while Bertram, trembling with
rage, half drew, his sabre from its sheath. His brother officers,
however, closed in a group around Count Waldheim, as if to shield him
from attack.
Bertram stood alone. He might have had the courage to reply to
Waldheim's mortal insult by a cut with his sabre; but he could not
brave such numbers of antagonists. With an oath, he dashed the sabre
back into its scabbard, cast a glance of deadly hatred about him, and
strode away. Behind him he heard scornful laughter and loud expressions
of contempt, but he did not venture to heed them or to look back.
CHAPTER VII.
In the heart of the Tyrol, where the Rothwalderbach and Schwarzenbach
unite to form the waters of the Tausenser Aar, lies the village of
Tausens; it is the centre of the most retired portion of the Tyrolean
highlands.
In former years, before there was any railway near, scarcely a single
stranger ever visited Tausens, although the village is only about four
leagues distant from the nearest town, which is reached by a very good
high-road. Since this town, however, has been provided with a railway
station the village is somewhat more frequented, although even now its
visitors are still confined to a few stout Alpine explorers, who pass
through Tausens to wander up the Schwarzenbach valley and find a path
over the lofty Schiechjoch to the Zillerthal, or who seek the Tauern
mountain group by the way of the Rothwald valley.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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