Albano would fain set his friend free before avenging him; therefore he
would hasten first to Schoppe and then to his uncle. But as he passed
by the lighted apartments of the latter, a sudden indignation seized
him, and he must needs go up. The tall, haggard uncle came slowly to
meet the excited youth, with the jay on his hand. Albano, without any
circumstances, with flaming eyes, charged him with his double part, his
heaven-crying destruction of Schoppe, and the illusory operations
against himself, and demanded answer and satisfaction. "Yes, yes," said
the Spaniard, stroking his _diablesse_; "I have the pistols: I have no
time,--no time for talking." "You must have it," said Albano. "I have
none, _Deo patre et filio et spiritu sancto testibus_; it will soon be
between eleven and twelve, and the gloomy one stands here." "Heavens!
why this silly, tragic scenery? O God, is it not possible, then, that
you are even a man,"--looking with horror at the skin of his face,
which absolutely could not look joyful or loving,--"so that you can
tremble, blush, repent, exult? What knew you of my Schoppe, when you
once in Ratto's cellar made believe as if you knew a frightful deed of
his?" "No one needs know anything," he replied; "one says to a man, 'I
am acquainted with thy villanous deed'; the man sends his thoughts
back, he finds such a one." "But what had he done to you?" asked
Albano, with agitation. Dryly he replied, "He said to me, 'Thou hound!'
It strikes eleven o'clock; I say nothing more than what I will."
Here the Spaniard brought two pistols and a bag, showed him that they
were not loaded, asked him to load one (giving him powder and lead),
but not the other. "Into the bag, each into the bag," said he; "we draw
lots!" The bolder, the better, thought Albano. The Spaniard shook both
up, and requested Albano to tread upon one of them, as a sign of his
choice. He did so. "We shoot at the same time," said the uncle, "as
soon as it has struck the two quarters." "No," said Albano, "you fire
at the first stroke, I at the second." "Why not?" replied he.
They posted themselves over against each other in opposite corners of
the chamber, with the pistols in their hands, awaiting the stroke of
half past eleven. The Spaniard closed his eyes in dumb listening. As
Albano looked into this blind, bust-like face, it seemed to him as if
no sin at all could be committed upon such a being, least of all a
death-stroke. Suddenly there was a murmuring in the still chamber of
five voices among each other, as if they came from the old
philosophers' busts on the walls; the father of death, the Baldhead,
the jay seemed to speak, and an unknown voice, as if it were the
so-called Gloomy One. They said to one another, "Gloomy One, is it not
so, have I told any falsehood? I bring five tears, but cold ones,--I
bear the wheels of the hearse on my head,--I lead the panther by the
noose,--I cut him free,--I point with white finger at _him_,--I bring
the mist,--I bring the coldest frost,--I bring the terrible thing!"
Here the bell sounded the first stroke, and the Spaniard fired,--at
the second Albano blazed away;--both stood there without a wound;
powder-smoke floated round, but nowhere was there any appearance of a
splintering, as if the ball had been only a glass ball filled with
quicksilver. With grim contempt, Albano looked at him on account of the
previous voices. "I was forced to," said the uncle.
Suddenly the Lector broke in, breathless, whom Julienne had despatched
to hinder a probable duel. "Count!" he stammered, "has anything
happened?" "Something," replied the uncle, "must have happened in the
neighborhood, the smoke came in; we were just on the point of embracing
and bidding each other good night." He rang, and commanded the servant
to ask the host who was firing so late at night. Albano was astounded,
and could only say in parting, "So be it! But fear the madman, whom I
unchain!" "Ah, do it not!" said the Spaniard, and seemed to fear.
Augusti waited upon him down to the street, nor did he let him go till
after he had given his word of honor not to go up there again. But
Albano flew, even at this late hour of the night, to the house of woe
and to the tormented heart.