Brandow had spoken in a loud, threatening tone; but he had evidently failed in his object. Gotthold's eye rested upon him so calmly--with a glance of contempt, as it seemed to him--that he could not bear the gaze, and suddenly paused with a secret thrill of terror, as Gotthold now quietly opened a letter he had just taken out of his pocket. "Will you read this letter before you say more?" Brandow had not the courage to refuse. "From the noble Wollnow, apparently, to me and about you?" "Yes, it is from Wollnow, but to me and about you." "About me! that's strange, and passably long too." He tried to feign a yawn as he let the sheets slip through his fingers; but had scarcely cast a glance at them, and read the first lines, when he started up like a madman, and hurling the letter upon the table, exclaimed: "This is infamous! This demands blood! I will see nothing more, hear nothing more! I will not be the patient victim of a vulgar intrigue. We will speak of this again, sir, we will speak of this again." He wandered restlessly up and down the room; Gotthold remained quietly in his seat. "You have a moment to decide whether you will read the letter, or whether I shall show it to Count Zarrentin, before taking farther steps." Brandow paused in his walk. "So you really mean to have a scandal! I thought so. Well, perhaps it will be worth the trouble, to see how you intend to begin." He threw himself into his chair again, seized the letter, and began to read it with the air of a man who wished to get rid of a troublesome petitioner. A scornful smile played around his lips. "I was mistaken," he muttered as if talking to himself, "it is simply ridiculous, utterly ridiculous." But his lips were pale; the smile changed to a grin, and his hands trembled more and more. He had read very rapidly at first; but the farther he proceeded the longer he lingered over every separate sentence, and even word. Many he seemed to weigh and test two or three times, and he made a pretence of reading long after he had evidently reached the end. At last, amid the terrible tumult of his soul, a resolution was formed. "You were going to give this--letter to our chairman," he said, carefully folding the sheets; "I have no objection, but on one condition." He withdrew the hand with which he had held out the letter to Gotthold. "On condition that I may first take a copy of this precious document, to serve as a basis for the charge of scandal I shall bring against the noble writer and delicate-minded receiver of this bungling performance. To a man so extremely just as yourself, a man who does not hesitate, on the most absurd proofs, to charge his friend with the most horrible crimes, this will doubtless be perfectly agreeable." "Entirely so," replied Gotthold; "you can also keep the original. The letter was merely to make you acquainted with certain things, to which I did not wish to refer verbally, and has performed its work."