The officers came back hanging their heads. Frederic burst out of the room. The first person he met on the stairs was the old Baroness von Beling.
"Gracious heavens! what are you doing with a drawn sword?" she asked.
He put the sword in its scabbard. Then he ran to his wife and embraced her and the baby.
Ten minutes later an explosion was heard in Frederic's room. Benedict, who was with Karl, rushed to it and burst open the door.
Frederic was lying on the floor dead, his forehead shattered by a bullet. He had left this note on the table:
"Struck in the face by General Sturm, who has refused to give me satisfaction, I could not live dishonoured. My last wish is that my wife in her widow's dress should leave this evening for Berlin, and there beg from Her Majesty the Queen the remission of the subsidy of twenty-five million florins, which the town as I testify is unable to pay.
My friend, Benedict Turpin, will, I know, avenge me.
"FREDERIC, BARON VON BÜLOW."
Benedict had just time to read this when he turned at a cry behind him. It was from the poor widow.
Benedict, leaving Emma in her mother's care, went to his room and wrote four notes, each in these terms:
"Baron Frederic von Bülow has just shot himself in consequence of the insult offered him by General Sturm, who has refused to give him satisfaction. His body lies in the house of the Chandroz family, and his friends are invited to pay their last respects there.
"His executor,
"BENEDICT TURPIN."P.S.—You are asked to make the news of his death known as widely and publicly as possible."