“No,” said Wilhelm quietly.

“What!” shouted Paul, taking hold of Wilhelm’s shoulder and shaking him.  “Surely you are not in earnest?  You are an officer—­you have been a student—­you will never let that fool of a fellow place you in a false position!” Wilhelm freed himself, and tried to speak reasonably; but Paul would not listen, and went on, his face red with anger: 

“Not only for yourself; you owe it to the girl’s honor, if not to your own, to punish the fellow.  You won’t appear like a coward in a woman’s eyes.”

“That is an odd kind of logic.”

“Do be quiet with your logic and your philosophy, and the lot of them.  I am not a logician, but a man, and I feel a mortal offense like a man, and want to settle with the offender.”

“Do stop a minute and let me speak a word.  I will break off my relations with Fraulein Ellrich, and then I shall not be in a position to fight for her.”

“That is very chivalrous!”

“That is silly!  Just think of this situation:  suppose I wound or kill the offender—­come back from the duel, and find the young girl, who is the cause of the quarrel, ready to offer me the prize.  I answer:  ‘Many thanks, fair lady, I do not now wish for it,’ and straightway leave her, like the knight in the old ballad.”

That seemed to satisfy Paul.

“Very well; then it must not be on her account.  But fight you must,” and he stopped suddenly, and then burst out:  “If you will not fight him, I will.”

“Are you mad?”

Paul began to explain that he had the right to do it; he worked himself into a fury, he stuck to his ideas, and it took Wilhelm an hour to bring him to a more reasonable frame of mind.  He spared no pains in explaining to him his views of the world’s opinion, and that the real cowardice would be to fear the foolish prejudices of society; but it was all in vain, and Paul’s angry objections were only silenced when Wilhelm said with great earnestness: 

“If nothing that I say convinces you, I can only act in one way with the painful knowledge that our friendship is not equal to such conditions, but only to ordinary occasions.”

“Oh! if it comes to giving up our friendship, as far as I am concerned, I must wink at the whole thing; but what I can’t stand is your calling the opportunity which allows one to silence a fool, a mere disease.”

The crisis was not long in coming.  The next morning before Wilhelm went out, a lieutenant of one of the Uhlan regiments stationed at Potsdam called, and said he had come with a challenge from Herr von Pechlar; he declined to sit down, giving his message as shortly as possible, with the least suspicion of contempt in his voice.

Herr von Pechlar had waited the whole afternoon; but as Herr Eynhardt had sent him no message, he could no longer put off demanding satisfaction.  The questions as to who was the offender, and what weapons should be used, might now be decided by the seconds.  Wilhelm looked calmly into the officer’s eyes, and explained that he had nothing further to do with Herr von Pechlar.