One of Count d’Ahlefeld’s most marked characteristics was his great presence of mind. When he heard himself so abruptly named, he could not repress an exclamation of surprise; but in the twinkling of an eye, his pale, proud features lost their expression of fear and astonishment, and recovered their usual calm composure.
“Well, yes,” said he, “I will be frank with you; I am indeed the chancellor. But I hope you will be equally frank with me.”
A burst of laughter interrupted him.
“Have I waited to be urged to tell you my name, or to tell you your own?”
“Tell me with the same sincerity how you found me out?”
“Have you never heard that Hans of Iceland can see through mountains?”
The count tried to insist.
“Consider me as a friend.”
“Your hand, Count d’Ahlefeld,” said the little man, with brutal familiarity. Then he stared the minister in the face, exclaiming: “Could our two souls escape from our bodies at this moment, I fancy that Satan would hesitate to decide which of the two belonged to the monster.”
The haughty noble bit his lip; but between his fear of the robber and his desire to secure him as his tool, he managed to disguise his resentment.