At this moment the door of the bedroom was violently torn open, and the Russian colonel appeared on the threshold, his cheeks burning and his eyes flashing with anger.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE TWO CANNONEERS.

Elise uttered a cry of terror, and stared at her lover with wide-opened eyes.  But Gotzkowsky’s countenance was illuminated with a dark and savage joy.  “Ah, at last, then!” said he, letting go the arm of his daughter, and grasping his sword.

But the colonel advanced proudly and collectedly toward him.  “Here am I, sir,” said he; “here am I, to defend myself and avenge an insult.”

“I have driven you out of your hiding-place, as the fox draws the badger out of his kennel,” cried Gotzkowsky, with derisive laughter, purposely calculated to irritate the anger of the young officer to the highest pitch.

The two men stood opposite to each other, and gazed at one another with faces full of hatred and rage.  Elise threw herself between them, and falling on her knees before her father, exclaimed, “Kill me, father; save your honor—­kill me!”

But Gotzkowsky slung her pitilessly aside.  “Away!” cried he, roughly.  “What do you here?  Make room for us!  Here is a man with whom I can fight for my honor.”

Feodor stepped quickly toward Elise, who was still kneeling on the floor, wringing her hands, and sobbing from intense pain.  He raised her up, and whispering a few words in her ear, led her to the sofa.  He then turned to Gotzkowsky, and said, “Your honor is pure and unspotted, sir!  Whatever you may think of me, you must respect the virtue of your daughter.  She is innocent.”

“Innocent,” cried Gotzkowsky derisively, “innocent! why, your very presence has polluted the innocence of my daughter.”

“Father, kill me, but do not insult me!” cried she, a dark glow suffusing her cheeks.

“Pour out your anger on me,” said Feodor ardently.  “It is a piece of barbarism to attack a defenceless girl.”

Gotzkowsky laughed out loud and scornfully:  “You speak of barbarism, and you a Russian!”

An exclamation of rage escaped the colonel; he seized his sword and drawing it quickly advanced toward Gotzkowsky.

“At last!” cried Gotzkowsky, triumphantly, raising his blade.  But Elise, beside herself, and heedless of the flashing steel, threw herself between them.  With burning words she entreated Feodor to spare her father, and not to raise his sword against him.  But Gotzkowsky’s voice overpowered hers.  Such wild words of contempt and insulting rage issued from his lips, that the young officer, hurt in his military honor, did not dare to listen to the voice of his beloved.  It was he now who pressed Elise back, and with raised arm placed himself opposite to her father.

“You must kill me, sir, or wash out this insult with your blood,” cried he, preparing himself for the combat.