“My Crown Prince!” exclaimed the doctor. “I beg you—I implore you—” He fell on his knees before Aloyse.
“Get up! Get up!” Aloyse spoke in a kindly, condescending tone. It always delighted him to receive ocular proof of his superiority; some of his father’s remarks were most disquieting. “No harm shall come to you, my good man.”
The doctor, still weeping and in such mental turmoil that he forgot to dust the knees of his trousers and the tails of his long, black coat, kept pace with Moltzahn. Aloyse was whistling and brandishing a small cane. His round face, empty of all save appetites, was gay—it became a prince thus to go to the duel. And, in fact, he was not a coward, except before his father; and he longed to punish the low creature who had dared to lift his eyes to a princess of the house of Traubenheim, had dared to lay hands in anger upon a royal person.
“I can hardly wait to get at the dog, Moltzahn,” he said. “I’m afraid he won’t come.”
Moltzahn replied, “Yes, Your Royal Highness,” absently. The nearer he got to the field the gloomier he became. He had taken many risks, had done many degrading things in furthering the ambition of his life, to be the man next the throne in Zweitenbourg. But this risk was a senseless fly straight into the face of fate.
It was almost broad day when Grafton, Burroughs, and a doctor from Bâle arrived. They lifted their hats to the first-comers. Dr. Kirschner lifted his hat in return; Moltzahn gave a slight salute to Burroughs. Aloyse stared insolently at Grafton and made no salutation whatever.
Grafton turned to Burroughs. “You see, Burroughs, what kind of cattle they are. I apologize again for bringing you.”
Burroughs was white and nervous. “Which one do I deal with?” he asked, in an undertone.
Grafton pointed at Moltzahn. “And keep your eyes on him. He’s a blackguard through and through, capable of anything.”
Aloyse continued to stare at Grafton, a cruel smile on his lips, and the vindictive hate of the brainless in his eyes. Grafton did not like that smile. “I am taking long chances,” he muttered, “but—I must!” He turned his face towards the north, towards Zweitenbourg, and forgot Aloyse.