"Hermann, you are--"
"No insults!" said the Count, authoritatively, raising his hand. "I should have thought you have often enough had opportunity to test my courage. To-day's scene is the open breach of a friendship which has long existed only in name. In the future our paths must lie apart--let that be sufficient."
If Hermann really wished to avoid irritating Eugen still further, he ought not to have spoken in this proud, scornful tone. It robbed him of the last particle of sense remaining to him, and drove him finally to the use of force. He came close up to the Count, and with a voice half choked with passion, he said between his teeth--
"I ask you for the last time, will you give me satisfaction?"
"No!"
"Well, then, I will compel you to!"
He raised his hand, and the next minute a blow struck the Count.
The effect was terrible. Every drop of blood left Hermann's face, his fist clenched convulsively, and for a moment it seemed as if he would rush upon the offender and fell him to the earth, but the usual self-command conquered; he took a deep breath, and let his arms fall.
"Good, you shall have your way! To-morrow morning early, then!"
There lay something in the iron energy with which this man controlled himself, which shamed Eugen's violence, and was not without its effect upon him. He stood, perhaps himself frightened at what he had done, as if something like repentance were working within him, for he made a movement, as if to hold the Count back, but it was too late, Hermann had already turned away, and left the place.