The hemorrhage had at last been arrested, the doctor sent for, and the
sick man put to bed. Oswald was sitting beside him, awaiting the
arrival of the physician. From time to time he whispered a comforting
word to the invalid or gave him a bit of ice. Some one gently lifted
the latch of the door. "Ossi!" Georges called softly.
"Well?"
"Capriani has sent this note to you."
"To me? Let me have it."
Oswald took the note and retired to the bedside again. Shortly
afterward he appeared in the adjoining room where Georges was, his eyes
filled with gloom, his face ghastly pale.
"What does the dog say?"
"He asks where his second can find me, as I might not like to receive
him beneath my mother's roof. He is right--!"
"Second?" Georges interrupted him. "Have you quarrelled?"
"Yes, he was insolent to me and to Fritz, and so I called him a
scoundrel and turned him out of the room."
"And you are going to accept his challenge?"
"Yes!"
"You, you mean to fight with Conte Capriani--with a wretched swindler,
with no claim to the satisfaction of a gentleman? Are you insane? Do
you not see how such a duel must degrade you?--Show me his letter that
I may know what to do, and then let me go to him. I assure you that the
matter can be settled in a quarter of an hour; it is nothing but empty
brag on his part."
"I tell you that I insist upon this duel," exclaimed Oswald, beside
himself.
"Upon a duel with an adventurer who, with his money, comes from no one
knows where? It is impossible, downright impossible! Show me his
letter."
Oswald changed colour, felt in his pocket--"I have not got it,--I threw
it away--" he stammered disconnectedly, "moreover, the letter has
nothing to do with the matter. Go to him,--it is against all rule,--but
I will not have his seconds cross my threshold. One second is enough
for me, I will not have another dragged into this disgusting affair.
Arrange everything with Kilary, and as soon as possible--pistols!"
"Pistols?--at thirty-five paces?"
"Fifteen if he chooses,--or for all I care across a handkerchief!"
Georges went close up to his cousin, and looked into his eyes as if to
read his very soul; then he drew a long breath and said, "You are not
alone in the world, Ossi,--you have a mother and a betrothed who
idolize you! and yet you would hazard your life for the sake of a
single angry outburst, for a mere whim; you would accept the challenge
of a man who, spurred on by envy and wounded vanity, is capable of
anything, and to die by whose hand could only disgrace you? And all
because--because you are possessed for the moment by some fixed
delusion which makes life intolerable to you!" Oswald winced. Georges
went on, "The only one who could gain anything by your death is
myself,--and God knows I would give my life at any moment to save
yours! I do not grudge you the position that you occupy."
"What do you mean? What stuff are you talking," Oswald interrupted
him imperiously; his face was still ashy pale, and his voice sounded
harsh--"'You do not grudge me the position that I occupy!'--Perhaps you
think you have a right to it?"
"But, Ossi!--How can you--? you are beside yourself--you are insane!"
ejaculated Georges, utterly confounded.
"Yes, yes,--I have known it for some time, Georges, I am losing my
reason!" Oswald murmured in broken, weary tones. He groped for support,
sank into a chair, and covering his face with his hands, sobbed like a
child.
There was a long pause. At last Oswald raised his head. "Now, go!" he
said in a sharp tone of command, such as he had never before used to
his cousin. "Go to him--pistols--and soon. If you will not go, I will
send Pistasch,--judge for yourself whether that would improve matters!"
And Georges shrugged his shoulders and went.