"He has put him to the sword."

"Who? Who? Ivan? Salista?" cried the company, surrounding the messenger in their excitement.

"Ivan has put the marquis."

An "A-ah!" was the incredulous rejoinder of the others.

"But I tell you he has," repeated the young count; "he has cut him into a jelly."

"And Ivan?"

"He is as untouched as I am."

"Ah, you are making fun of us."

"It is no subject for fun. Ask Salista."

"But where is Ivan?"

"He will be here immediately, and will convince the unbelievers, who will find no wounds into which they can poke their fingers. He went home with the doctors, for Salista had two, who have at last succeeded in st.i.tching him together."

Then he related to them circ.u.mstantially all that had happened. For those who did not clearly understand, he demonstrated with the help of two walking-sticks the course the duel took. He came to the double-cut.

"In this way Ivan parried the stomach-thrust and gave the fore-cut--the final a _tempo contre coup_. The performer of these wonderful exploits had not even turned a hair."

"Why, he is a miracle!"

"No such thing," protested Count Geza. "He has been in the army--captain in the hussars." (He advanced him a grade, but captain sounds better than lieutenant.) "He fought all through the revolution; he was nineteen times in action, and fought with the Cossacks besides.

He has also received a good-service medal."

All this the count imagined might be the fact, although he had certainly not heard a word of such a history from Ivan. Once a man has scored one success, he is credited with twenty more.

"Truly a wonderful man!" said Baron Oscar. "For three months he has been among us every day, and has never mentioned his soldiering experiences."

"Now we have really landed him upon us, like a Sindbad that can never be shaken off," remarked Baron Edward. "We wanted to be rid of him, and instead we have raised him into the saddle. He will never dismount; he is saddled on us forever. No one would dare now to speak to him."

"Good G.o.d of Saxony!" cried Baron Oscar, "how the man will carry his nose in the air! There will be no standing him, for the women will, of course, make the deuce of a fuss about him, and men must have a certain respect for him. _Sacre bleu!_ A man who can shoot and fence like this fellow! But I would bet anything that it was a mere accident."

"I think quite the contrary," remarked Count Stefan, "and I very much fear that Ivan will leave us all cooling our heels here, and not show his face. He will never cross any of our thresholds again."

"Oh, he wouldn't be such a confounded fool! I bet you a hundred to one."

"First pay me the bet you have lost."

Baron Oscar put his hand in his pocket, but before he drew out his pocket-book a happy thought struck him.

"But how if Geza and his brother second were playing off a joke? They may have concocted this story. Perhaps the truth is that at the last moment the quarrel was made up and there was no duel, and that they have both come from a luncheon where no blood, but plenty of champagne, flowed."

"If you don't believe me, then drive to Salista. My cab is at the door. Go and convince yourself."

The baron rushed off. On the staircase he met Count Edmund coming up from the ladies. He asked where Oscar was rushing in such haste.

"He doesn't believe Geza's story."

"That is just the way the ladies have treated me; they won't believe me. They say, 'If nothing has happened to Ivan, where is he?' The Countess Theudelinde sheds tears like a river; she execrates us all, and declares we have killed her hero. The cuckoo only knows which of the two ladies is the most in love with him. Up to this I thought I knew, but now I am all in the dark."

Baron Oscar returned at this moment. He didn't say a word, but took out his pocket-book and paid Count Stefan his bet. It was a very convincing answer.

"Well, how is Salista?" asked several voices together.

"He is terribly disfigured."

On this every one took out their purses and paid their lost bets; they did it with very sour faces. If only Ritter Magnet had been disfigured!

Just then Ivan was announced. The sour faces changed with marvellous rapidity into friendly smiles. He was greeted warmly; every one wanted to shake hands with him. He was the hero of the hour, but he looked tired and very serious. Count Stefan was the last to press his hand.

"I rejoice," he said, "to see you uninjured."

Two young fellows said to one another, "Old Stefan may very well rejoice; he has made a good thing of the handicap, and cleared us out jollily." But in spite of their losses, they, too, congratulated the victor.

Every one seemed pleased except, perhaps, Ivan. "I thank you all," he said, in his grave voice, "for your warm sympathy; and I thank you, count, in particular, for your cordial reception, and for the friendship which you have accorded to me. I shall always preserve a grateful remembrance of your kindness. I beg of you to bear me likewise in your recollection, for I have come now to take leave. I am returning to my home to-morrow."

The count winked with his left eye at Baron Oscar, as who should say, "Did I not tell you so?" But he spoke no word to induce Ivan to rescind his resolution. He pressed his hand warmly as he said:

"Be a.s.sured that I have a sincere esteem for you, and wherever we may meet again always consider me as an old friend. G.o.d bless you!"

Baron Oscar made much more fuss. He held Ivan with both hands on his arm.

"My dear friend, we cannot allow this. Such a good fellow as you have proved yourself to be cannot slip away from us in this manner--just at the moment, too, when you are going to be the lion of the season. You sha'n't escape; you belong to us."

Ivan laughed; gentle sarcasm, half pain, half irony, totally unmixed with bitterness, was in the laugh. Then he answered this burst of friendship:

"I thank you, comrade, for the honor you do me, but I am not fit to be Governor of Barataria; it is far better for me to be at home. I go to get my 'grison' saddled, and I ride away."

(Any one who is conversant with "Don Quixote" will remember the skit upon the island of Barataria, and the affecting meeting between the a.s.s and his master.)

When he had finished speaking, Ivan made a deep bow to the company and left the room. Count Stefan followed him, and, in spite of his protestations, accompanied him down the stairs to Theudelinde's door.

He was much moved by Ivan's last words.

When he returned he found the entire company still in a very uncomfortable frame of mind, discussing the scene that had just happened with much annoyance.

"Who has told him the joke about the island of Barataria?" asked Baron Oscar.

Each one gave his word of honor that he had not betrayed confidence.

"Then may the devil fly away with me if I don't believe it was the abbe."

But Count Stefan shook his head. "No, my friends," he said, "believe me, no one has told Behrend anything. He is a man of acute penetration, and he has read you like a book without appearing to take notice."