“Leave me! leave me!” repeated the old man; “and take my curse, my curse upon you and the miserable race of Guldenlew, which is to be allied to you!”
“By Heaven!” exclaimed the enraged officer, “you insult me doubly!”
Ordener restrained the lieutenant, who was beside himself with passion.
“Respect an old man, even if he be your enemy, Lieutenant; we have already one question to settle together, and I will answer to you for the prisoner’s offences.”
“So be it,” said the lieutenant; “you contract a double debt. The fight will be to the death, for I have both my brother-in-law and myself to avenge. Think that with my gauntlet you pick up that of Ordener Guldenlew.”
“Lieutenant d’Ahlefeld,” replied Ordener, “you espouse the cause of the absent with a warmth which proves your generosity. Would there not be as much in showing pity for an unfortunate old man to whom adversity gives some right to be unjust?”
D’Ahlefeld was one of those souls in whom virtue is kindled by praise. He pressed Ordener’s hand, and approached Schumacker, who, exhausted by his emotion, had sunk back upon the rock, in the tearful Ethel’s arms.
“Lord Schumacker,” said the officer, “you abused the privileges of your age, and I might have abused the privileges of my youth, if you had not found a champion. I enter your prison this morning for the last time, for I come to tell you that you may henceforth remain, by special order of the viceroy, free and unguarded in this donjon. Receive this good news from the lips of an enemy.”
“Go!” said the old prisoner, in a hollow voice.
The lieutenant bowed and obeyed, inwardly pleased that he had won the approving glance of Ordener.