ndar, because he was the lover of
my wife. I look upon that, however, as an accident, and nothing more.
Le beau cousin happened to be at hand when my susceptible, ardent wife
looked around for a lover, and she accepted him; he was the first, but
he will not be the last. I was not driven to pursue him by jealousy. I
am a true son of this enlightened age, and shall not, like the knights
of the olden time, storm heaven and earth because my wife has a lover. I
am a philosopher. For a noble wife, who had made me happy in her love, I
might perhaps feel and act differently. I, however, married a heartless
fool, and it would have been mad folly to risk my life with a brainless
fop for her sake."

"Speak, cousin!" cried Camilla, springing forward, white with passion.
"Speak! Do you not hear these insults?" She laid her hands upon his arm;
he muttered a few incomprehensible words and tried to shake them off.

"He has heard every word," said Lord Elliot, scornfully; "but he is
without doubt too polite to interrupt me. He will have the goodness
still to listen silently."

Camilla let her hands fall; gnashing her teeth she turned away and
seated herself upon the divan. Her lover and her husband stood before
her; the one, trembling like a broken reed, leaned against the wall, the
other erect and proudly conscious of his own worth and dignity.

"I said that I would not have dreamed of risking my life with a
brainless fop, for the sake of a heartless fool; but this fop was guilty
of another crime: he was not only the betrayer of my wife, but he was
the author of a shameful and most insulting letter, which you, madame,
had the effrontery to copy and send me."

"How do you know that he wrote this letter?" cried Camilla.

"In the first place, madame, you are not even capable of composing such
a letter. I took the liberty of removing the original of this letter
from your writing-desk. Armed with this proof, I sought le beau cousin,
and demanded satisfaction. Lieutenant Kaphengst, a former friend of this
handsome cavalier, accompanied me. When you deal with such a man as the
one who stands cowering before me, witnesses are necessary. He is quite
capable of denying every thing, and changing the roles. The baron had
left home, he had gone to Mecklenberg. Certainly he did not know that
I had come to Berlin to seek him, or he would have had the courtesy to
remain and receive my visit. I was too impatient to await his return,
and followed