The baroness uttered a cry of terror, and seized Count Vavel's hand.

"No, no; you shall not go alone. Listen. I was prepared for just such a decision on your part, so I wrote this letter. If you persist in going alone to meet the colonel, I shall hurry back to the manor, send my groom on the swiftest horse I own with this letter to Colonel Barthelmy.

Read it."

She unfolded the letter she had taken from her pocket, and held it so that Count Vavel might read, without taking it in his hands:

"HERR COLONEL: You need not seek Mme. Ange Barthelmy at the Nameless Castle. The veiled lady seen in company with Count Vavel is

"B. KATHARINA LANDSKNECHTSSCHILD."

In speechless amazement Count Vavel looked down at the baroness, who calmly folded the letter and returned it to her pocket.

"Now you may go if you like," she said coolly, "and I, too, shall do as _I_ like! The colonel will then have written proof to justify him in dragging my name in the dust!"

The count gazed long and earnestly into the lovely face turned defiantly toward him. What was said by those glowing eyes, what was expressed by those lips trembling with excitement, could not be mere sport. There is only one name for the emotion which urges a woman to risk so much for a man; and if Count Vavel guessed the name, then there was nothing for him to do but offer his arm to the lady and say:

"Come, baroness, we will go together."

When the count a.s.sisted his veiled companion into the carriage, and took his seat by her side, not even Henry could have told that it was not his young mistress from the castle who was going to drive, as usual, with her guardian.

It was with a singular feeling that Count Vavel looked at the woman beside him, to whom he was bound for one hour by the strongest, most dangerous of ties. Only for one hour! For this one hour the woman belonged to him as wholly, as entirely as the soul belongs to the living human being. And afterward? Afterward she would be no more to him than is the vanished soul to the dead human being.

The carriage had arrived at the boundary of the neighboring village, where the usual turn was made for the homeward drive, and they had not yet seen any one. Had Colonel Barthelmy's words been merely an idle threat?

Henry knew that he was not to drive beyond this point; he mechanically turned the horses' heads in the homeward direction, as he had done every day for years.

On the return drive the carriage always stopped at the edge of the forest, where a shaded path led through the dense shrubbery to a cleared s.p.a.ce some distance from the highway. This was the spot for their daily promenade.

The count and his companion had gone but a short distance along the path when they saw coming toward them three men in uniform. They were cavalry officers. The two in the rear had on white cloaks; the one in front was without, an outer garment--merely his close-fitting uniform coal.

"That is Barthelmy," whispered the baroness, pressing the arm on which she was leaning.

The count's expression of calm indifference did not change. He walked with a firm step toward the approaching officers.

Very soon they stood face to face.

The colonel was a tall, distinguished-looking man; he carried his head well upright, and every movement spoke of haughty self-confidence and pride.

"Herr Count Vavel, I believe?" he began, halting in front of Ludwig and his companion. "Allow me to introduce myself; I am Colonel Vicomte Leon Barthelmy."

Count Vavel murmured something which gave the colonel to understand that he (the count) was very glad to learn the gentleman's name.

"I have long desired to make your acquaintance," continued the colonel (his companions had halted several paces distant). "I was so unfortunate as not to find you at home the three calls I made at your castle. Now, however, I shall take this opportunity to say to you what I wanted to say then. First, however, let me introduce my friends,"--waving his hand toward the two officers,--"Captain Kriegeisen and Lieutenant ZaG.o.dics, of Emperor Alexander's dragoons."

Count Vavel again gave utterance to his pleasure on making the acquaintance of the colonel's friends. Then he said courteously:

"In what way can I serve you, Herr Colonel?"

"In a very simple manner, Herr Count," responded the colonel. "I have had the peculiar misfortune which sometimes overtakes a married man; my wife deceived me, and ran away with her lover, whom I do not even know.

As mine is not one of those phlegmatic natures which can meekly tolerate such an indignity, I am searching for the fugitives--for what purpose I fancy you can guess. For four years my quest has been fruitless; I have been unable to find a trace of the guilty pair. A lucky chance at last led me to this secluded corner of the earth, and here I learned that--but, to be brief, Herr Count, I owe it to my heart and to my honor to ask you this question: Is not this lady by your side, who is always closely veiled, Ange Barthelmy, my wife?"

"Herr Vicomte Leon de Barthelmy," calmly replied Count Vavel, "I give you my word of honor as a cavalier that this lady never was your wife."

The colonel laughed in a peculiar manner.

"Your word of honor, Herr Count, would be entirely satisfactory in all other questions save those relating to the fair s.e.x--and to war. You will excuse me, therefore, if I take the liberty to doubt your a.s.sertion in this case, and request you to prove that my suspicions are at fault.

Without this proof I will not move from this spot."

"Then I am very sorry for you, Herr Colonel," returned Count Vavel, "but I shall be compelled to leave you and your suspicions in possession of this spot."

He made as if he would pa.s.s onward; but the colonel politely but with decision barred the path.

"I must request that you wait a little longer, Herr Count," he said, his face darkening.

"And why should I?" demanded the count.

"To convince me that the lady on your arm is not my wife," was the reply, in an excited tone.

"You will have to remain unconvinced," in an equally excited tone retorted Count Vavel; and for a brief instant it was a question which of the two enraged men would strike the first blow.

The threatening scene was suddenly concluded by the baroness, who flung back her veil, exclaiming: "Here, Colonel Barthelmy, you may convince yourself that I am _not_ your wife."

Leon Barthelmy started in amazement, and hastily laid his hand against his lips as if to repress the words which had rushed to them. Then he bowed with exaggerated courtesy, and said: "I most humbly beg your pardon, Herr Count Vavel. This lady is _not_ Ange Barthelmy. These gentlemen are witnesses that I have asked your pardon in the proper form."

The colonel's companions, who had come hastily forward at the threatened conflict between their superior and the count, were gazing in a peculiar manner at the lady whose hospitality they had so lately enjoyed. Colonel Barthelmy also, although he bowed with elaborate courtesy before the baroness, cast upon her a glance that was full of insulting scorn.

The situation had changed so rapidly--as when a sudden flash of lightning illumines the darkness of night; and like the electric flash a light sped into Vavel's heart and illumined it with a delicious, a heavenly warmth that made it throb madly. But only for an instant. Then he realized that this woman who had dared everything for his sake had been insulted by the glance of scorn and derision.

He had now lost all control of himself. He s.n.a.t.c.hed a pistol from his pocket, directed the muzzle toward Colonel Barthelmy's sneering face, and said in a voice that quivered with savage fury:

"I demand that you beg this lady's pardon."

"You do?" coolly returned the colonel, still smiling, and gazing calmly into the muzzle of the pistol.

"Yes--or I will blow out your brains!"

The two officers accompanying the colonel drew their swords. The baroness uttered a cry of terror, and flung herself on Vavel's breast.

"I presume you will allow me to inquire, first, what relation this lady bears to you?"

Colonel Barthelmy asked the question in measured tones; and without an instant's hesitation came Count Vavel's reply:

"The lady is my betrothed wife."

The sneer vanished from the colonel's lips, and the swords of his companions were returned to their scabbards.

"I hasten to apologize," said the colonel. "Accept, madame, my deepest reverence, and do not refuse to forgive the insulting scorn my ignorance caused me to express. Permit me to convince you of my sincere homage, by this salute."

He bent his head and pressed his lips to one of the lady's hands, which were clasped about Count Vavel's arm. Then, with his helmet still in his hand, he turned to Count Vavel, and added: "Are you satisfied?"