As soon as he was alone Oswald took the Conte's fateful letter from his
pocket, and read it through once more.
No! he had read it aright, there it stood in black and
white!.... "After what I have thus told you," so the letter concluded,
"it is evident that a duel between us two can be nothing but a mere
formality--it is, however, a formality which I demand as due to my
honour as a man ...."
He must go to his mother and show her the letter; there was nothing
else to be done--nothing--! He must know whether he had the right to
shoot him down like a dog, or .... He was overcome by a sudden
dizziness, and the thought occurred to him, 'What if I should faint
away, and some one should find this letter here and read it--!' He
rose, lit a match and burnt the letter, with a feeling akin to relief
when nothing remained of the disgraceful document, save a few ashes.
George's words recurred to him; evidently Georges suspected something
wrong, that was clear,--but what? the contents of that letter he could
not suspect. But what if it were true? What if some one should discover
it? Every one would flee from him, even those who had loved him most.
And on a sudden he himself felt a fearful, paralysing disgust at the
blood in his veins! A dull lump seemed to rise in his throat,--it
choked him. 'But it cannot be,' he said to himself, 'it cannot be.'
Then he sat still for a long time, scarcely daring even to think; he
himself did not know for how long, but when at last the door opened and
Georges entered, he noticed that it had begun to grow dark.
"Well--the affair is settled!" began Georges gloomily.
"For when?"
"To-morrow morning at six o'clock--devil that he is, it could not be
soon enough for him; he pretended that he must leave for Paris in the
evening; probably he thought that if the duel were delayed you might
reconsider it, and instead of giving him satisfaction for the insult of
which he complains, add to it the thrashing which he deserves."
Oswald sat leaning his head on his hand and did not speak.
"God knows, I would not have gone to him," Georges went on, "if I had
not hoped to arrange matters amicably, even against your will,--if I
had not thought I could persuade him to withdraw his crazy challenge!
But the swindler has resolved to fight you; it is the greatest social
triumph that he has achieved in all the years that he has been trying
to climb. Kilary told me, in so many words, that it was only for show,
that it was to be a mere formality,--but--. Even that cynic, Kilary,
declares that he cannot understand your condescension. Well, you rank
so high in public opinion, that people will only wonder at your
eccentricity. Will you say good-bye to Fritz, or shall we go
immediately?"
Fritz had fallen asleep, Oswald would not disturb him, and so they rode
off.
There must have been a storm in the neighbourhood; the air had grown
cooler, a light wind whirled the dust aloft. Heavy broken clouds were
driving overhead, and where the sun had set there was a glow as of a
conflagration, as if the sun in descending had set fire to the clouds.
The red light slowly faded, and all colours were merged in melancholy,
uniform gray.
The two men rode on in silence, which was broken at last by Oswald;
"Georges, I know that if this affair turns out badly to-morrow you will
be blamed for your share in it, blameless though you be. Wherefore I
will leave a letter behind me, telling how I absolutely forced you to
be my second."
"What an idea!" exclaimed Georges angrily; then he added
affectionately--"if so terrible a misfortune should occur, I should
have neither heart nor head to care what people said! Moreover, after
what Kilary told me, there can be no chance of any tragical conclusion
to the affair."
"One never can tell," rejoined Oswald.
Georges was startled, and after a short pause began. "Don't be
childish, Ossi! It depends entirely upon you whether this duel ends
harmlessly or not;--there's not much honour to be gained in provoking a
mad dog. Since you condescend--to my utter mystification--to fight with
Capriani, do not irritate him by disdainful conduct on the ground. A
very minute portion of courtesy will suffice to satisfy him,--but thus
much is absolutely necessary!"
Oswald made no reply. After a while he turned his horse. "Where are you
going?" asked Georges.
In a constrained, unnatural voice Oswald replied. "You ride on towards
home, I should like to go to Rautschin to see Gabrielle, before...."
Georges, who had failed to understand so much in his cousin's behaviour
through the day, thought this desire at least quite natural. He let
Oswald go, and rode on alone to Tornow. He looked round once after
Oswald, and was surprised to see him ride so slowly,--he was walking
his horse.
What the young man wanted was,--not to clasp his betrothed in his
arms,--all that he wanted by this prolongation of his ride was the
postponement of the interview with his mother. When he reached
Rautschin he stopped short and looked up at the windows of the castle.
He thought of the first happy days of his betrothal in Paris; image
after image passed before his mind with beguiling sweetness;--for a
moment he forgot everything.
The windows of the corner drawing-room where the family were wont to
pass their evenings were open;--he listened. He could hear them
talking, and could distinguish Zinka's soft, somewhat veiled tones, and
the sweet, childlike voice of his betrothed, but without catching her
words;--once he heard her laugh merrily, almost ungovernably. When was
it that he had last heard that very laugh? He shuddered,--it was on the
evening of his betrothal in the Avenue Labedoyere--when Zoe Melkweyser
had unfolded her ridiculous mission.
And from out the past resounded distinctly on his ear; "Gabrielle and
the son of the Conte Capriani--! Gabrielle and the son of Capriani!"
He struck his forehead with his fist.--Over the low wall on this side
of the castle, that separated the park from the road, hung the branch
of a rose-bush heavy with Marechale Niel roses. Oswald plucked one,
kissed it, and tossed it through the open window of the drawing-room.
"Good-night, Gabrielle!" he called up.
When she came to the window to bid him welcome, she saw only a horseman
enveloped in a cloud of dust trotting quickly past the castle in the
direction of the little town.