When he turned to sit down, the left side of his face was, for the first time, toward the Duke, showing the ear bound with strips of surgeon’s plaster.
“In the name of Heaven, man,” said he, “what have you been doing with yourself?”
The Count laughed. “Trading the top of my ear for a day or two more of life.”
“Duel?” Lotzen asked.
“Yes, after a fashion, but not exactly under the code.”
The primeval woman stirred in Mrs. Spencer.
“The story, Count, the story!” she demanded, coiling her lithe arms behind her head, and leaning far back in languorous gracefulness.
“It’s the story that brings me here so early,” he replied.
The Duke was frowning. Duelling was a serious crime in Valeria, even in the Army, and it was a particularly unfortunate moment for Bigler to offend; and especially as only the Governor of Dornlitz or the Regent could save him from punishment.
“How did you manage to get into such a mess just at this time?” he asked sharply. “Was any one killed?”