“I did not expect you to say so much,” replied Hamilton, coldly.
A sudden flush once more overspread Raimund’s face, an internal struggle seemed to take place, but after a glance towards Hildegarde, he said calmly, “If I did not feel that I had been the aggressor, not even the offered bribe could have induced me to apologise.”
“Bribe—offered!” exclaimed Hildegarde, almost indignantly.
“No, not offered. Favour conceded, if you like it better—we will not dispute about words. Mr. Hamilton, my cousin is free, and can dance when she pleases.”
“I imagine she could have done so before, had she wished it,” said Hamilton, haughtily.
Raimund walked away as if he had not heard him, and buckled on his sword with an air of perfect satisfaction.
Hamilton stood by Hildegarde as if he were turned to stone. The words which had been so mysteriously spoken seemed to have completely petrified him. Hildegarde, too, stood immovable for a minute, and then turned as if to leave him.
“Do you not wish to dance?” asked Hamilton, in a constrained voice.
“No—I mean yes—yes, of course,” she replied, moving mechanically towards the dancers.
Hamilton’s feelings at this moment would be difficult to define. As he put his arm round her slight figure, intense hatred was perhaps, for the instant, predominant—he was in such a state of angry excitement that he had gone quite round the room before he perceived that he was actually carrying Hildegarde, who was entreating him to stop.