Ompertz stood at Ludovic’s shoulder. “He is lying,” he whispered.
“I think, Count,” Ludovic said, “that you are mistaken. The ladies are still within the castle.”
Suddenly the Count’s face changed, as, somehow, although the actuality was in a greater degree, Ludovic had had an intuition that it would change. Its expression of urbane, if cynical, strength became one of furious rage, which seemed to blaze forth from every feature. Yet, curiously, for the moment, the outburst was confined to his looks; his speech did not rise above a concentrated but restrained indignation.
“You think? You give me the lie, Herr Lieutenant? I am wondering what will be your next insult to the man who has sheltered and fed you. I tell you the ladies of your party have left my roof. If you choose to doubt me, you may search the castle, but at your peril.”
“At our peril, then,” Ludovic replied resolutely, “if it must be. I fear we must seek them within doors since——”
“Since you do not choose to believe my word,” the Count roared, letting loose his rage now with a vengeance. “You give me the lie!” he continued furiously. “You come here, wretched whipster, begging my hospitality, which I give you in full measure, and you repay it by insult, by worse, according to your own words, by killing my men; bringing me a story such as no one would credit. You must be mad. By heaven, if I find that what you have told me be true, I will have vengeance. The blood of my servants shall not be shed for nothing by wandering madmen. I will kill you as a dangerous pest, so look to yourself, yes, both of you, my Lieutenant and Captain!”
Nothing could exceed the acrimonious fury of this tirade. The polished man-of-the-world, the self-indulgent sportsman, with his suave cynical philosophy, was transformed into a raging animal, snarling upon his spring. The dark face seemed now black with temper, the eyes were blood-shot, the great white teeth significantly shown, all made the face a picture of vicious rage not to be forgotten.
For a moment Ludovic stood nonplussed, hardly knowing how to take the situation. That the Count had some evil scheme in his mind was certain, how it was to be met by two men, with nothing but their courage to back them, was not quite so plain. One awkward feature of the situation was the plausibility behind which the Count had taken his stand. The position he had assumed had in it certainly less of improbability than the story Ludovic had to tell. Anyhow, in that wild region might was right. The Count’s intention to pick a quarrel and so get rid of them was manifest: to argue further or try to convince him would be sheer waste of time. And yet the crisis was so desperate that something had to be done.
As Ludovic paused, hesitating as to the course he should take, Ompertz took a step sturdily forward, and confronted the raging Count with no sign of flinching or perplexity.
“As to madmen,” he said bluffly, “you will soon find, Count, on which side the madness lies. At least we are not fools, and I know not what object you may have in trying to make us such. We are not afraid of you or your threats, and that we can fight against odds your ravine yonder bears witness more eloquent than a whole day’s boasting.”