"No!" she cried, "no, I will not be a slave, not even to my own heart.

I will rule--rule--rule," she repeated, her voice growing lower and lower, but firmer and more determined.

Suddenly the violent constraint gave way, her limbs failed and she sank upon her couch, her lovely hands were crossed upon her breast, her head fell languidly upon the cushion, and whilst her eyes were veiled with tears, she whispered with trembling lips:

"Oh, he was so beautiful!"

And she seemed to sink into dreamy unconsciousness.

Herr von Stielow overtook the count as he was going down the steps.

"I did not answer your last remark, count," he said, "because my reply would not have been seemly in a lady's presence. You appear to wish to lecture me, and my name as well as the uniform I wear, ought to tell you, that I will be lectured by no one, at least not by strangers."

The count stood still.

"It seems, sir," he said, "that you wish to quarrel with me."

"And if I do?" cried the young officer boiling over.

"You are much mistaken," replied the count.

"I cannot be mistaken in punishing insolence," cried the young officer, who grew more excited from the count's calmness.

"Very well, sir," said the latter, "I believe we had better cease talking, and leave further arrangements to our seconds."

"I like haste and punctuality in these matters," cried Herr von Stielow.

He handed the count a card.

"I shall wait at home for your second."

"I have nothing to prevent my settling the affair at once," said the count.

And bowing coldly they parted.

CHAPTER VII.

THE DUEL AND THE ROSE.

An hour afterwards the seconds had arranged all that was needful.

The next morning, in the earliest dawn, two carriages were seen driving to a secluded spot at the farther end of the Prater.

Count Rivero and Herr von Stielow, with the seconds and a surgeon, walked over the dewy ground of a small gra.s.sy opening amongst the trees.

The preparations were quickly concluded.

Two crossed swords marked the barrier. The pistols were loaded, and each combatant placed himself ten paces from the barrier. Lieutenant von Stielow was very pale; his face bore traces of a sleepless night, and there were dark circles below his eyes. Yet his expression was calm, almost joyful.

His second, an officer of his regiment, stepped up to him and handed him the pistols.

"There is yet time," he said, "for a little word of apology, and all mischief will be avoided."

"You know I am always ready to bear the consequences of my words and actions," replied Herr von Stielow; "to draw back now would be unworthy and cowardly. But make yourself easy--I, at least, will do no mischief."

He took the pistols. The seconds stepped aside.

The opponents saluted with their weapons.

The count looked fresh and calm, and showed no trace of emotion.

He had the first shot, and the right of advancing to the barrier.

He did not take a step forward, but raised his pistol, lowered it slightly, and fired.

Lieutenant von Stielow's kepi flew from his head--the ball had hit the upper rim.

The lieutenant raised his arm, took aim for a moment, but, as the seconds could see, much too high, and the ball flew two feet above his adversary's head.

"Count," said the lieutenant, with calm courtesy, "what honour and custom amongst those of our position required, is now accomplished. I beg to apologize for my words of yesterday."

The count came forward hastily, a look of great satisfaction shining in his eyes, as a master who is well pleased with the conduct of a pupil.

And with dignity, but great kindness, he offered the young lieutenant his hand.

"Not a word more," he said, heartily.

"Yes," said von Stielow, "I must beg for one word more, and that I may say it to you alone."

The count bowed, and they walked together into the wood, out of the hearing of the seconds.

"Count," said the lieutenant, and his lip trembled slightly, "what I have to say--what I have to request, will, I fear, seem extraordinary to you, but I hope you will reply to my question as frankly as I ask it. Before we had exchanged shots it would have been a new insult; now I venture to put it as from one man of honour to another."

The count looked at him inquiringly.

"How do you stand with--that lady?" asked Herr von Stielow; "you have a perfect right not to reply, but if you will answer me, you will do me a favour I shall never forget," he added warmly.

The count considered for a moment, and fixed his calm gaze on the eyes of the young man who stood before him anxiously awaiting his reply.

"I will answer you," he said; and he drew from the pocket of his over-coat a letter-case, and taking from it a letter, handed it to Herr von Stielow.

He looked through it. He smiled, half sorrowfully, half contemptuously.

The count's dark eye rested on him with deep sympathy.

"One more request," said the young officer, "which can only be justified by the strange position in which we are placed."

The count bowed.