"That is what brings me here. The telegram was sent me at the request of the Countess Hertha."
"To you?"
"To me."
The general changed colour. At last a suspicion of the truth seemed to dawn upon him. He raised his head haughtily. "What does this mean? How do you happen to be on terms of such intimacy with the betrothed of Count Steinrück?"
"It is my duty, in her name, to recall the promise given by her to the Count," said Michael, returning the Count's haughty look. "This would have been done long since but for the severe illness of the Countess Marianne. Beside her death-bed there could be no conflict, no thought of personal considerations. I know that it must seem heartless to allow any such to intrude now, when Hertha is still weeping beside her dead mother, but I act by her desire, for Count Raoul will presumably hasten to her when he hears of her loss, and she neither can nor will receive him as her betrothed. This is what I wished to explain to your Excellency; all other explanations can be made hereafter. This is no time for----"
"No time for what?" Steinrück angrily interrupted him. "I should suppose you had said everything already. Go on."
"As you please. Hertha has given me the right to act as her representative. I speak in the name of my betrothed."
This was intelligible enough, and transcended the general's worst fears. He had divined the possibility of danger, and had tried to separate the pair. It had been of no avail. His lofty scheme was utterly overthrown; the prize which he had destined for his heir had at the last moment fallen to the lot of another. He ought to have denounced with indignant scorn the audacious insolence of the man before him, instead of which he cast at him a long, strangely gloomy look, and was silent. It was only when Michael, puzzled to understand this silence, gazed at him in surprise that he seemed to collect himself, and then he burst out, angrily,--
"These are most extraordinary announcements to be made so calmly. You appear to find it perfectly natural that the betrothed of my grandson should belong to you, simply because you have the audacity to stretch forth your hand for her. Raoul will reckon with you for such presumption. I advise you to reflect that such a prize is beyond the reach of a--Rodenberg."
"No prize that I can win is beyond my reach, and I have won Hertha's love," said Michael, coldly. "She submitted to a family arrangement that disposed of her hand while she was but a child, but she must not atone for her too hasty consent by life-long misery. Any opposition from Count Raoul is hardly to be expected. He certainly has lost all right to claim his former betrothed."