All the blood which had rushed through Franz's veins and flushed his face, a moment before, struck to his heart; he stood pale before his cousin, and said in a voice, which trembled with intense excitement:
"You have said it. You have spoken the word which divides us. Louise shall never cross your threshold, neither will I."
He turned to go; at the door he was met by Frida, who had heard the quarrel in the next room: "Franz, Franz, what is the matter?"
"Farewell, Frida," said he, hastily, and went out, towards the farm-house.
"Axel," cried Frida, running up to her husband, "what have you done? What have you done?"
"I have showed a young man," said Axel, striding up and down the room, as if he had fought a great battle with the world-out-of-joint, and made everything right again, "I have showed a young fellow, who wanted to make a fool of himself over a pretty face, his true standpoint."
"Have you dared to do that?" said Frida, sinking, pale, into a chair, and gazing with her great, clear eyes at her husband's triumphal march through the room, "have you dared to thrust your petty pride of birth between the pure emotions of two noble hearts?"
"Frida," said Axel, and he knew very well that he had done wrong, and his conscience smote him, but he could not confess it, "I believe I have done my duty."
Any one may notice, if he will, that the people who never in their lives do their duty always make the most use of the word.
"Ah!" cried Frida, springing up, "you have deeply wounded an upright, honest heart! Axel," she begged, laying her folded hands on his shoulder, "Franz has gone into the farm-house, follow him, and repair the injury you have done! Bring him back to us again!"