Hertha was standing alone at her window gazing out, but she saw nothing of the surging life in the principal street of the capital. Her eyes were persistently turned in the direction of the general's place of abode. He had promised to send her tidings in the course of the forenoon, and if he had really succeeded in preventing the duel his messenger should have already arrived, but there was no sign as yet of the Steinrück livery, and the young Countess's impatience and anxiety increased with each minute that passed.
All at once she leaned far forward. She had recognized the general, who was just turning the corner; yes, it was he himself, and as he recognized her he waved his hand to her. Thank God, he was smiling! That could not betoken any unhappy termination.
She left the window, but did not dare to hasten to meet the Count. No one must suspect anything unusual. Only when she heard his step in the anteroom did she fling open the door and hurry towards him. "You come yourself,--you bring me good news?"
The question was uttered breathlessly, and Steinrück replied in a soothing tone, "Certainly, my child; there is no cause for further anxiety: the affair is arranged."
Hertha drew a long breath of intense relief: "Thank God! I hardly dared to hope."
The general cast a searching glance at her pale, weary face; then, taking her by the arm, he led her back into the room and closed the door. "I certainly have had a hard time with the obstinate fellows," he began. "Neither would yield, neither would make the slightest advance. At last I had to exert all my authority to bring them to reason. Nevertheless the affair was not so grave as you supposed; a couple of thoughtless words of Raoul's, a sharp reply from Rodenberg,--it was quite enough to send such a couple of Hotspurs to mortal combat. They would fain have sprung at each other's throats there and then. Fortunately, I heard of the matter in time to prevent mischief."
He spoke in a half-jesting tone, but Hertha perceived that his smile, as well as his gayety, was forced. She was not deceived: she knew the gravity of what he seemed to esteem so lightly.
"And they have given you a sleepless night, too; you show that," he continued. "Our coy little betrothed repents her treatment of poor Raoul yesterday, eh? Let it be a warning to you, Hertha. No man can endure such treatment, even at the hands of the woman he loves the best."
"Least of all, perhaps, at her hands. But do you imagine that Raoul really loves me?"