Count Tekeli shook the hand of the young man warmly, and then summoned his two daughters. They obeyed promptly. Both were agitated, and bent their eyes upon the floor.
"Count Tekeli," said Michael, speaking in a calm, clear voice, "I have a word to say to this your younger daughter, the lady Anna."
As her name was uttered, the young girl raised her eyes, inquiringly, to the face of the speaker.
"Lady, but now," said Michael, "you solicited my forgiveness on your knees."
"What!" cried the count, the blood mounting to his temples; "a daughter of mine solicit on her knees forgiveness of one so late my more than vassal—my slave! What is the meaning of this?"
"It means," cried Michael, kindling as he spoke, "that this morning, during your absence, count,—nay, a half hour before your return, this, your younger daughter, in a moment of ill-founded jealousy and rage, usurping your virtual rights,—rights you had yourself annulled,—doomed me to the knout!—yea, had me scourged by menials in the court yard of your castle!"
"How," cried the count, addressing his daughter, "dared you commit this infamy on the person of my friend—the savior of your life?"
"I did, I did!" cried Anna, wringing her hands.
"And you asked me to forgive you," said Michael. "You offered me your hand, and begged me to accept it. My answer is, Never, never, never! The moment you laid the bloody scourge upon my back, you lost your hold upon my heart forever! I were less than a man could I forgive this outrage on my manhood. I saved your life—you repaid it with the lash. It is not the lash that wounds, it is the shame. The one eats into the living flesh, the other into the living heart. Were you ten times more lovely than you are, you would ever be a monster in my eyes."
The tears that coursed freely down the cheeks of the lady Anna ceased to fall as Michael ceased to speak. A deep red flush mounted to her temples, and her eyes, so lately humid, shot forth glances like those of an angry tigress. She turned to the count.