He paced his room to and fro in some agitation, then consulted the paper for the list of names of new arrivals, among which he had already seen Möhâzy's address, and, after re-reading it, tossed the paper aside and ordered his carriage.
Half an hour later a servant handed Herr von Möhâzy the Count's card. Herr von Möhâzy was wont to rise about noon, and was therefore still wrapped in his silken Turkish dressing-gown when his unexpected visitor was announced. As the visitor followed close upon his card, there was nothing for it but to prepare for his reception as best he might by tightening the silken cord and tassels around his waist.
"Excessively delighted to see you. Quite an unexpected honour," he called out, as Bernhard hastily entered the room and closed the door behind him; "but I must beg you to excuse this." And he indicated his brilliant habiliments.
"I have a very special reason for my visit, Herr von Möhâzy," Bernhard replied curtly, without accepting an offered seat. "You asked yesterday for a lady who is held in high esteem in society here. I know that you had certain relations with this lady, which, by a monstrous deceit, as you know, you----"
"Sir!"
"I am ready to answer for my words,--which relations you established by a monstrous deceit."
"I must pray you to use less violent language!"
"I must pray you to hear me out!" Bernhard said, in a raised voice, and with flashing eyes. "From what you said yesterday, I cannot but suppose that you intend to compromise this lady, and to destroy the peace of a happy home."
"Not an idea of anything of the kind," Herr von Möhâzy calmly remarked. But Bernhard had grown so eager in his part of chivalrous defender that he neither heard nor heeded.
"I am come to you now to give you an opportunity of leaving Berlin this very day, if you would not be so insulted by me as to make a hostile meeting between us inevitable."