The young Countess perhaps comprehended his thoughts, for her cheek flushed; she hastily retreated a few steps, and her manner grew more formal.
"Is no adjustment possible, then?" she asked.
"No."
"Not even if I speak to my betrothed, if I beg him----"
"It will avail nothing. The Count could scarcely be persuaded to retract his words, which is what I insist upon. Let me beg you to give up all thought of such a course; these matters are not to be adjusted by a lady."
"But a lady was the cause of the quarrel, although you refuse to allow her to attempt a reconciliation," Hertha said, with indignation. "Do not look at me in such surprise; I know the cause of this quarrel, whatever may be the ostensible pretext for it. You never forget an offence, Captain Rodenberg,--never,--as I know, and this is the way in which you avenge yourself."
Michael's face grew dark. "Do you really hold me capable of so mean a revenge? I do not think I deserve this!"
"And yet you hate Raoul? I know why only too well----"
"You do not know why," he interposed, with emphasis. "You are entirely mistaken. I never sought this quarrel, but I was compelled by the Count's behaviour to call him to an account. The provocation came from him. I admit that I reciprocate his dislike, but its justification lies in circumstances of which you have no idea, and which have no connection whatever with that hour at Saint Michael!"
It was the first time that he had made any allusion to the hour in question, and as he did so there was no change either in his stern voice or in his formal demeanour; he seemed to grow even more hard and stern. But his eyes dwelt upon the young Countess, who did, indeed, justify all that Hans had said of her,--she looked the heroine of a fairy legend.