"I demand that you beg this lady's pardon."
"You do?" coolly returned the colonel, still smiling, and gazing calmly into the muzzle of the pistol.
"Yes—or I will blow out your brains!"
The two officers accompanying the colonel drew their swords. The baroness uttered a cry of terror, and flung herself on Vavel's breast.
"I presume you will allow me to inquire, first, what relation this lady bears to you?"
Colonel Barthelmy asked the question in measured tones; and without an instant's hesitation came Count Vavel's reply:
"The lady is my betrothed wife."
The sneer vanished from the colonel's lips, and the swords of his companions were returned to their scabbards.
"I hasten to apologize," said the colonel. "Accept, madame, my deepest reverence, and do not refuse to forgive the insulting scorn my ignorance caused me to express. Permit me to convince you of my sincere homage, by this salute."
He bent his head and pressed his lips to one of the lady's hands, which were clasped about Count Vavel's arm. Then, with his helmet still in his hand, he turned to Count Vavel, and added: "Are you satisfied?"