"Very well—if you refuse to give satisfaction for the injury you have done me, in robbing me of my mistress, I will proclaim you a coward in the presence of the regiment upon parade."
"O, make yourself easy on that score, baron," answered Ernest. "Life is of too little worth for me to think of shielding it. If you will step with me into the shadow of yonder grove, we can soon regulate our accounts."
The two men walked silently to the appointed spot, and without any preliminary, drew their swords and engaged in combat. The struggle was not of long duration, for Ernest wounded his adversary in the sword arm, and disarmed him.
"Are you satisfied?" he asked.
"I must be so for the present," replied the baron, sullenly. "When I recover, you shall hear from me again."
"As you please," said Ernest, coldly. "In the mean time, suffer me to bind up your arm."
The young man bandaged the wound of his adversary, and as he faltered from the loss of blood, led him towards the farm house. As they approached it, two ladies advanced to meet them—one of them was Meena, the other Madame Von Berlingen.
"Dangerfeld wounded!" cried the latter, bursting into tears—"O, I have been the cause of this: forgive me—forgive me, Dangerfeld, or you will kill me."
"You forget, madame, that you belong to another."
"I am yours only—I can never love another. Nor does the person you allude to," added the lady, turning to Ernest, "cherish any attachment to me."