"Goodness knows, you're quite right. But you will have unpleasantnesses, mark my word. … And if she has to appeal to the Emperor, my sister said. And my sister—I mention it quite in confidence—my sister—"
"Is a devil, I understand."
"Exactly."
He laughed slyly as one who is getting even with an old enemy and drank, with every evidence of delight, the second glassful of wine.
Niebeldingk considered. Whether unfathomable stupidity or equally unfathomable sophistication lay at the bottom of all this—the business was a wretched one. It was just such an affair as would be dragged through every scandal mongering paper in the city, thoroughly equipped, of course, with the necessary moral decoration. He could almost see the heavy headlines: Rascality of a Nobleman.
"Yes, yes, my dear fellow," he said, and patted the terrible enemy's shoulder, "I tell you it's a dog's life. If you can avoid it any way—never go in for fast living."
The old gentleman shook his gray head sadly.
"That's all over," he declared, "but twenty years ago—"
Niebeldingk cut short the approaching confidences.
"Well, what's going to happen now?" he asked. "And what will your sister do when you come home and announce my refusal?"
"I'll tell you, Baron. In fact, my sister required that I should tell you, because that is to—" he giggled—"that is to have a profound effect. We've got a nephew, I must tell you, who's a lieutenant in the army. Well, he is to come at once and challenge you to a duel…. Well, now, a duel is always a pretty nasty piece of business. First, there's the scandal, and then, one might get hurt. And so my sister thought that you'd rather——"