When he reached the table at which Bertram was sitting, Delmar said, by way of introduction, "Herr Premier Lieutenant von Bertram, Colonel von Heydeck."
Bertram sprang up and suddenly became very pale at sight of the old officer, whose approach he had not noticed. A grim smile hovered upon the old man's lips as he remarked the impression he produced; his tall, slightly bent figure straightened itself proudly as he gazed scornfully at the dragoon, whose glance could not meet the eyes so bent upon him.
"I have asked for an introduction, Herr von Bertram," said the colonel, in a loud voice that was distinctly heard everywhere beneath the awning, "that I might call you to account for a scoundrelly----"
"Stay, colonel! You must not go on!" Paul Delmar interrupted the old man at this point.
"Sir, by what earthly right?" the colonel burst out, angrily.
"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.