The prince, who had never in his life been treated in this way, looked aghast; the baroness cast down her eyes.
"That could not have happened at home, in Russia," said the prince.
"I regret," said the baroness, "that accident should have made you witness so unpleasant an occurrence."
At the same moment the servant re-entered the room, deadly pale, and cried, breathlessly:
"Oh, ma'am! come quickly! The baron is dying!"
"_Oh, mon Dieu!_" exclaimed the baroness, and seemed on the point of fainting.
"Compose yourself madame! compose yourself!" said the prince. "Bear what has to be borne. Will you take my arm? Ho, there! show us the way!"
CHAPTER III.
About the same hour--perhaps a little earlier two gentlemen displayed at the billiard-table, in the restaurant near the main guard-house on the square, that industry which is so becoming to busy idlers. The two gentlemen who met at this favorite lounging place of the _jeunesse doree_ of Grunwald, were Cloten and Barnewitz. The former, who excelled in all the arts which required a sure eye and a steady hand, and no head work, had beaten his adversary in every game, and hence the young man was in excellent humor, while the other was nearly angry.
"Another game, Barnewitz?" asked Cloten, triumphantly, after having finished the twelfth with a brilliant carom.
"Thank you; no!" said Barnewitz, throwing his cue on the billiard-table; "am not in the right humor for it to-day. I cannot play well anyhow in this miserable twilight!"
"We can have the lamps lit."
"No, thank you! Another day! We can play quits to-morrow."
Cloten now laid down his cue also, stepped before the looking-glass and twisted his blonde moustache, while Barnewitz threw himself upon the sofa and yawned.
"It is wretchedly tedious here," he said; "don't know how on earth to kill the whole afternoon!"
"Let us take a walk."
"It is too abominably cold."
"A game at piquet?"
"Too tiresome."
"A bottle of claret?"
"Well, that's better."
"Waiter! a bottle of Pichon and a light."
The waiter brought what was ordered. Cloten threw himself into an arm-chair opposite to Barnewitz, and stretched out his legs.
"Well?"
"Well!"
"Don't you know anything?"
"No! Do you?"
"No!"
After this exchange of bright thoughts there followed, as a matter of course, a pause of exhaustion, and the ship of conversation remained for a quarter of an hour stranded on a sandbank, while the two men smoked their cigars and sipped their wine.
Cloten and Barnewitz had been apparently excellent friends ever since their terrible collision in summer, but in reality they had watched each other with unbroken distrust. It is true, the distrust was but too well founded in this case. Hortense Bamewitz had no sooner come to Grunwald than she cast out her net--experienced fisher of men as she was--after her old lover, and Cloten had at that time already discovered that happiness in the arms of his former lady-love was far more attractive than the honor of being the husband of the most fashionable lady in town. Barnewitz, on the other hand, gave the noble couple ample opportunity for meeting; for he threw himself, at Grunwald, head foremost into a vortex of amusements, of which there was no lack there for a rich nobleman who cared more for quantity than for quality. Nevertheless, he was as much the victim of jealousy now as before, and he was therefore highly pleased to see, what all others saw as well, that Emily treated her husband like a school-boy, and had evidently found a worthier object for her loving heart.
Barnewitz had long wished for an hour when he might inform Cloten under the mask of friendship of the reports which filled the town about him and his wife. The day before he had accidentally heard of some new scandal, and to-day Cloten's superiority at billiards had greatly annoyed him. After thinking the matter over for some time, therefore, he exploded:
"How is your wife, Cloten?"
"Thanks! Pretty well; why?" replied Cloten, not a little astonished at the brusque question.
"Well, I suppose it is permitted to inquire after your wife! Or do you allow no questions to be asked?"
"Certainly; but what do you mean?"
"Because she has been so very charming for a little while past."
"Is that so very uncommon?" asked Cloten, slightly embarrassed, and torturing his moustache.
"Yes; for she had just before treated everybody, yourself included, so very badly, that one could not help wondering at the sudden change. At all events, I was not the only one to notice it; the whole world is full of it."
"The whole world ought to pull its own nose," said Cloten; and his hand trembled with annoyance as he filled his glass.
"Certainly; but they don't do it."
"---- the whole world!"
"Certainly; if you wish it. But if you would rather talk about something else;--I only thought that, as your oldest friend, it was my duty to call your attention to certain things."
"Well, then, come; out with your story," said Cloten, with nervous vehemence. "What is it? Out with it!"
"I shall take good care not to say anything more, if the first word puts you into such a state."
"I am not in any state," said Cloten; and to prove it, he dashed his glass upon the table, so that the foot broke to pieces and the wine flooded the marble top.
"You are a queer fellow," said Barnewitz. "Wait till you have cause to get angry. What does it amount to? They say that you are not exactly Darby and Joan; that your wife has her own way; that you quarrel occasionally so that the servants hear it in the kitchen, and the like."
"Who says so?"
"The whole world!"