There are
some smiles more terrible than any frown.
"No," answered Steinmetz, "I think not. It is not as bad as that. But it
is bad enough, mein lieber!--it is bad enough! I horsewhipped him first
for myself. Gott! how pleasant that was! And then I kicked him out for
you."
"Why?" repeated Paul, with a white face.
"It is a long story," answered Steinmetz, without looking at him. "He
knows too much."
"About whom?"
"About all of us."
Paul walked away to the window. He stood looking out, his hands thrust
into the side-pockets of his jacket, his broad back turned
uncompromisingly upon his companion.
"Tell me the story," he said. "You need not hurry over it. You need not
trouble to--spare me. Only let it be quite complete--once for all."
Steinmetz winced. He knew the expression of the face that was looking
out of the window.
"This man has hated me all his life," he said. "It began as such things
usually do between men--about a woman. It was years ago. I got the
better of him, and the good God got the better of me. She died, and De
Chauxville forgot her. I--have not forgotten her. But I have tried to do
so. It is a slow process, and I have made very little progress; but all
that is my affair and beside the question. I merely mention it to show
you that De Chauxville had a grudge against me--"
"This is no time for mistaken charity," interrupted Paul.
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