Still Sonnenkamp was not able to understand. What does this woman want? Is this a kind of mockery? But he was disposed to think otherwise, when she exclaimed:—
"They are weaklings—cowards, all of them, the world of rank particularly! They ought to have created you a count, an ordinary baron is altogether too small a thing for you. You have done what they all would have liked to do—no, not all, but only certain ones who have the mettle within them. But they are ashamed before the man who accomplishes what they had not the energy, or the courage, or the daring to accomplish. They have swords, they carry fancy daggers, and are frightened at the rattan of the school-master, who raps them on the fingers with it and says to them: 'Know ye not that we are living in the epoch—or do they call it the century, the age—of humanity?' By good right, all the nobles of the land should leave their cards for you, and congratulate you. How many of these puppets would be in possession of nobility, if they had to win it by heroism like yours? Look at me; were I young, had you come in my youth, I would have gone out with you into the wide world; you have in you a Napoleonic vein. Give me your hand!"
She reached out both her hands and pressed his passionately.
"You do not recollect, but I have kept it in mind," said she in a haughty tone, "when you and Prince Valerian dined with us, you said: 'There is a priestcraft of Humanity.' You were right. Before the flimsy humanity of Jean Jacques Rousseau, they all bow down in fear, strong free men; they are dreaming of a paradise of equality, where black and white, noble and mean, the genius and the blockhead, shall be brewed into a mass together; they have a new faith in a book, the 'Contrat Social' is their Bible. I am not afraid of Jean Jacques Rousseau-—-"
With a joyful look, Sonnenkamp interrupted her:—
"A cause is not lost, no, it is victorious, if highminded women are enthusiastic over it."
"Thanks—thanks," continued Bella.
She seized his hand and stroked his thumb with her delicate fingers.
"So one of the pets of the school-masters has sunk his teeth in here? Be proud of it; it is a mark of honor, more so than if it had been won in battle. Now let nothing in the world subdue you; enjoy yourself; you have nothing more to conceal; now stand your ground and show that you are the only one that is not afraid of the school-masters. The dauntless man acknowledges and conforms to the inevitable."
Bella had risen; her eye was blazing, her cheeks were glowing, and her countenance wore a look of mysterious and terrible fascination.