A dark glow of anger showed itself in the count’s face, and, passionately starting up, he approached Cecil, raising his arm threateningly against him.
“Sir Count,” said Cecil, stepping back, “you mistake! I am no Russian serf, I am a free man, and no one has a right so to threaten me!”
The count had already let his arm fall, seeming suddenly to have changed his mind, and in a more friendly manner he said:
“You are right, Cecil, and what you desire shall be done.”
Taking a large sealed paper from a drawer in his writing-desk, he handed it to Cecil.
“That is the order for the arrest; destroy it yourself!” said he.
Taking the paper, Cecil read it with attention. “It is, as you say, the order for the arrest. It is destroyed!”
With a satisfied smile, he tore the paper into a thousand pieces, and placed these in his bosom.
The count had stepped to the table and hastily written a few lines upon another piece of paper. This he handed to Cecil. “I hope you are now satisfied,” said he.
Cecil took the paper and read it.