‘I also desire to cross swords with you,’ said Greifenstein politely, using a stock phrase.
‘Prosit!’ growled Bauer again. He took the card Rex offered him, and then, with a scarcely perceptible salute, turned on his heel and walked away.
Greif remained standing during some seconds, gazing after the departing student. His face expressed his annoyance at the quarrel, and a shade of anger darkened its usual radiance.
‘Sit down,’ suggested Rex quietly.
‘We must be off at once,’ said Greif, mechanically resuming his seat. ‘There is to be fighting to-morrow morning, a dozen duels or more, and I will settle with that fellow before breakfast.’
‘That is to say, I will,’ observed the other, putting his pencil and his almanac into his pocket.
‘You?’ exclaimed Greif in surprise.
‘Why not? I can demand it. I insulted him roundly, before you challenged him.’
‘Do you mean to say that you, Rex, a sober old student of Heaven knows how many semesters, want to go out and drum with schlagers like one of us?’
‘Yes, I do. And I request you as the head of your Korps to arrange the matter for to-morrow morning.’