His meagre figure was drawn to its full height, he threw his head back, and his deep-sunken eyes flashed with indignation.
“I have told this fellow,” cried Brunow, “that he has betrayed my confidence—the most sacred confidence one man can repose in another—a confidence I extended to him, believing him to be a man of honor and my friend.”
“And I, sir, have instructed you,” returned the count, “that your accusation is altogether baseless. There, if you cede so much to the authority of my years, the matter may be allowed to rest. If you have further business with Captain Fyffe, I will find another opportunity of calling upon him.”
“I have no further business with Captain Fyffe,” said Bruno, “now nor at any time.”
So saying, he looked about him for his hat, caught it up, bowed angrily to the count, and without a word or a glance for me walked out of the room, slamming the outer door so noisily that the whole house shook with the concussion.
“Mr. Brunow,” said the count, when we were thus left alone, “is an ill-conditioned person. I owe it to you to explain precisely what has happened. But first, my dear Fyffe, give me your hand, and let me offer you my felicitations.”
I took the hand he offered and held it a moment, hardly realizing where I stood.
“Your suit is accepted; and if you will do us the honor to dine with us this evening, I am charged by Lady Rollinson to say that she will be charmed to meet you at her table. There, my dear fellow,” he concluded, hastily withdrawing his hand, “you are stronger than you fancy yourself to be.”
He stood, half laughing, as he straightened the fingers of his right hand with his left, and then shook them in memory of my grip.
I had not a word to say for myself, and I felt as foolish and awkward as a school-boy.