Gertrud had let his bitterness pass without remark, but at his last words she lifted her head in sudden terror. Something in her countenance must have touched the Count magnetically, for his eyes suddenly lighted up, he seized both her hands, and asked in a low tone, but with quite a different expression from before, "Gertrud, why do you hate me?"
The girl started violently, and a suspicious flush bathed her cheeks and brow. She tried to free herself, but he would not let her go.
"From the first you have shown the most unconcealed hatred towards me, and yet, Gertrud, matters must be clear between us now. What have I done to you? Why do you hate me?"
No one would have thought it possible that this cold, hard voice could melt into such soft, heart-felt tones, and Gertrud's whole being seemed to tremble under them. It is impossible to describe the emotions which played in stormy strife upon the young girl's countenance, anxiety, pain, despair, and yet behind all these, an unspeakable joy, which found vent in the single exclamation, half jubilant, and yet half like a deep cry of pain, "O, my God!"
She clasped her hands before her face, Hermann looking steadfastly at her. "I see that a secret lies here, which you will not speak out. But I must take certainty with me to-morrow, Gertrud, tell me only this one thing, for which of us two do you tremble?"
A moment's heavy pause, then she slowly let her hands fall. Her face was deadly pale, but calmly, though almost inaudibly, she answered, "I tremble for every life which is threatened."
The Count drew back a step, the light in his eyes was suddenly extinguished, and his face was once more hard and cold. "You are right, mein Fräulein," said he icily. "Since you are the innocent cause of our duel, the death of either of us must be equally unpleasant to you. I understand that perfectly. Adieu!"
He went to the end of the avenue, his foot hesitated an instant, he imagined he heard a cry, but when he looked back she still stood immovably in the same place. With all his aristocratic pride, Count Arnau threw back his head, and strode through the deepening twilight towards the house.
CHAPTER VII.
The morning broke clear and sunny. At breakfast Count Arnau and Herr von Reinert were missing, they had gone for a ride very early with several other gentlemen, which had only been settled late the evening before. No one thought of attributing any importance to this circumstance, but, on the other hand, Baronin von Sternfeld was greatly displeased that Mademoiselle Walter had also excused herself, on the plea of feeling very unwell. The good lady found this sudden indisposition of the gouvernante very inconvenient, for she was necessitated thereby to look after the children personally the whole day, the bonne and lady's maid being fully occupied with preparations for the next day's journey.