Max stood by his father, whose pale face and haggard eyes told of a sleepless night, and who in vain strove to hide his feverish agitation. His lips were tightly set, and the hand his son held twitched every now and then with a nervous quiver.
"Compose yourself, father," Max whispered; "your hand is so unsteady, you will hardly be able to press the trigger."
"No fear, I shall be able," replied the Doctor, in the same subdued voice, glancing at the pistols, which were at that moment being loaded by the seconds.
"Colonel Wilten's attention is already attracted this way," said Max, significantly. "Will you let him think that you are thus agitated by fear of a bullet?"
Brunnow gave an angry start.
"True," he said. "The strangers present cannot guess what is passing within me. They shall not, at least, take me for a coward."
He made an effort to collect himself, and succeeded in assuming a calmer demeanour; but he avoided glancing towards the spot where the Baron stood. In his usual haughty attitude, with a look of cold determination on his features, Raven, quite unmoved, awaited the coming event.
The mists began gradually to disperse; already the mountain summits and the villages on the higher lands came in sight. The sun must just have risen, for the whole eastern horizon was suffused with a red glow; as yet, however, the rays were not intense enough to fight a way through the thick vapour. The town still lay shrouded in its moist white veil; but the Castle on the heights was visible now, shadowy, indeed, and in a sort of mirage, but growing every minute more clear and definite. There Gabrielle slept in peaceful ignorance, dreaming of the morrow and the felicity to come; while here the momentous die was cast which was to decide her fate.
Colonel Wilten now declared that all was ready, and the combatants stepped on to the ground. Raven stood well erect, his eye clear and full, the hand which held his pistol absolutely steady, as though certain of its aim. Brunnow's composure was evidently forced, and sustained by a great effort. Though the approach of the decisive moment, and the fear of misinterpretation, in some measure restored firmness to his bearing, his hand shook visibly as he levelled the deadly weapon at the breast of the friend he had once so ardently loved.
Wilten gave the signal. The two shots crashed forth together; and, for a moment, both adversaries stood upright, facing each other. Then one man dropped his weapon, pressed his hand to his breast, took a step back, and fell, without uttering a sound.