With a loud laugh he threw himself upon the silken
divan.
"Thus are all these so-called good men real blockheads, stupid fools,
who believe every word spoken to them with a friendly mien! This honest
man really believes that his highly-prized master is now saved, because
he bears in his bosom the fragments of the order for his arrest. Worthy
dunce; as if there were no duplicate, and as if every promise were
countersigned by the Divinity himself! Go home with your count--my word
shall be fulfilled. No hair of his head shall be touched, but his proud
back shall be curled, and in the mines of Siberia he may learn to bow
before a higher power!"
Thus speaking, the count pulled a bell whose silken cord hung over the
divan, and, as no one instantly appeared, he pulled it again, this time
more violently. But yet some minutes passed, and still the bell was
unanswered. The count gnashed his teeth with rage, and muttered vehement
curses.
At length the door opened, and with an imploring face a servant appeared
upon the threshold.
"Miserable hound, where were you?" cried the count to him.
The servant fell upon his knees and crept like a dog to his master's
feet.
"Excellency, we had, as your grace commanded, so long as the gentleman
was with you, withdrawn from the anteroom and waited in the corridor,
where the bell could not be heard," stammered the servant.
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