"Very busy," repeated Brandow, drumming on the arm of the chair, "too busy not to be compelled to defer the account I have to settle with you until tomorrow morning. And if you should have the--the face to try to intimidate me, I say: Beware! beware! you do not yet know me; my patience is not inexhaustible, and however willing I might be to avoid a scandal, and for these few days, I freely confess, would fain escape it--if you urge me, and it must be--I am ready--ready at any moment."
Brandow had spoken in a loud, threatening tone; but he had evidently failed in his object. Gotthold's eye rested upon him so calmly--with a glance of contempt, as it seemed to him--that he could not bear the gaze, and suddenly paused with a secret thrill of terror, as Gotthold now quietly opened a letter he had just taken out of his pocket.
"Will you read this letter before you say more?"
Brandow had not the courage to refuse.
"From the noble Wollnow, apparently, to me and about you?"
"Yes, it is from Wollnow, but to me and about you."
"About me! that's strange, and passably long too."
He tried to feign a yawn as he let the sheets slip through his fingers; but had scarcely cast a glance at them, and read the first lines, when he started up like a madman, and hurling the letter upon the table, exclaimed:
"This is infamous! This demands blood! I will see nothing more, hear nothing more! I will not be the patient victim of a vulgar intrigue. We will speak of this again, sir, we will speak of this again."
He wandered restlessly up and down the room; Gotthold remained quietly in his seat.