He aimed very diligently, amid such a silence you could have heard a feather drop, and fired. He did as he had promised. His ball pierced the very middle of the face, a little below and between the two shots.
A wild roar of applause greeted the achievement. Even we who felt our honour at stake shouted with the rest and threw up our caps; while my lady took off in her admiration a slender gold chain which she wore round her neck and flung it to the champion, crying 'Vivat Bohemia! Vivat Waska!'
He bowed with grotesque gallantry, and one of the bystanders picked up the chain and gave it to him. We smiled; for, too fat to kneel or stoop, he could no more have recovered the gift himself than he could have taken wings and flown. Fraulein Anna muttered something about Tantalus and water, but I did not understand her, and in a moment the Waldgrave gave me something else to think about.
He stepped forward when the noise and cheering had somewhat subsided, and like his antagonist he looked up also.
'I do not see what there is left for me to do,' he said, with a gallant air. 'I could give him a mouth, but I fear I may set it on awry.'
Thrice he took aim, and, dissatisfied, forbore to fire. The crowd, silent at first, and confident of their champion's victory, began to jeer. At length he pulled. Plop! The smoke cleared away. An inch below Waska's last shot appeared another orifice. The Waldgrave had put in the mouth.
We waved our caps and shouted until we were hoarse; and the crowd shouted. But it soon became evident, amid the universal clamour and uproar, that there were two parties: one acclaiming the Waldgrave's success, and another and larger one crying fiercely that he was beaten--that he was beaten! that his shot was not so near the centre of the target as Count Waska's. The Waldgrave's promise to make the mouth had been heard by a few only, mainly his friends; and while these, headed by the Bohemian, who showed that his clumsy carcase still contained some sparks of chivalry, tried to explain the matter to others, the camp with one voice bellowed against him, the more excited brandishing fists and weapons in the air, while the less moved kept up a stubborn and monotonous chant of 'Waska! Waska! Waska!'
The only person unaffected by the tumult appeared to be the Waldgrave himself; who stood looking up at us in silence, a smile on his face. Presently, the noise still continuing, I saw him clap Count Waska on the shoulder, and the two shook hands. The Count seemed by his gestures--for the uproar and tumult were so great that all was done in dumb show--to be deprecating his retreat. But the younger man persisted, and by-and-by, after saluting the other competitors, he turned away, and began to force his way up the mound. It was time he did; the crowd had burst its bounds and flooded the range. The scene below was now a sea of wild confusion.
Such an ending seemed stupid in the extreme; in any place where ordinary discipline prevailed, it would have been easy to procure silence and restore order. And my lady, her face flushed with indignation, turned impatiently to the general, to see if he would not interfere. But he was, or he affected to be, powerless. He shrugged his shoulders with an indulgent smile, and a moment later, seeing the Waldgrave on his way to join us and the crowd still persistent, he gave the word to retire. The officers, who in the last hour had pressed on us inconveniently, fell back, and waiting only for the Waldgrave to reach his horse, we rode down the mound, and turned our faces towards the camp.
For a space, and while the uproar still rang in my ears, I could scarcely speak for indignation. Then came a reaction. I saw my lady's face as she rode alongside the Waldgrave and talked to him. And my spirits rose. General Tzerclas had the place on her other hand, but she had not a word for him. It was not so much that the young lord had distinguished himself and done well, but that in an awkward position he had borne himself with dignity and self-control. That pleased her.