"I only say it because you always call him so yourself."
"I can call my son-in-law anything I choose, but if any one else permits himself to do so, he shall eat his words as sure as I----"
"You gentlemen must certainly have grown very impatient," said Carla, who came out of the door just at this moment.
"Not at all," said the Count, turning on his heel and hastening towards her.
"Yes, very impatient!" cried Herr von Strummin, who had suddenly recovered his voice. "I was only waiting to take my leave; I must be at Strummin in half an hour. I hope the conversation will get on better without me; I have the honour----" He snatched the reins of his great strong-boned black horse out of the groom's hand, swung himself into the saddle, and sticking his spurs into the animal's sides, galloped out of the courtyard.
"Good gracious!" whispered Carla, "what does it mean?"
"A little row," said the Count, hiding the excitement into which the altercation had thrown him as well as he could under a forced smile; "nothing uncommon between old friends."
"And the cause?"
"A last attempt, it seemed to me, to get a Count for a son-in-law, before accepting a sculptor." The Count had assisted Carla into her saddle, put the riding-whip into her hand, and was now arranging her skirt. Carla bent towards him: "You bad man, I will give you a lecture on the way."
"Pity it cannot be without a witness," whispered the Count, with a look towards the groom, who was holding the reins of the other two horses.