"The world which belongs to you! Here in Europe you have mastered it with steam and iron. We who would find some quiet valley wherein to dream undisturbed shall finally be obliged to seek it in some distant island in the ocean."
"Assuredly, Herr Waltenberg, if such dreaming seem to you the sole aim of existence. For us it is action."
Ernst bit his lip: he saw that Erna was listening, and to be thus reproved in her presence was more than he could bear; adopting, therefore, the same indifferent, high-bred tone with which he had tried to humiliate the 'fortune-hunter' at their first interview, he said, "The old dispute, begun in the Herr President's conservatory! I never doubted your activity, Herr Elmhorst; you have certainly by its aid achieved brilliant results."
Wolfgang involuntarily held himself more erect; he knew what result was meant, but he merely smiled contemptuously. Here he was not merely 'the future husband of Alice Nordheim' as in society in the capital; here he was in his own domain, and with all the proud self-consciousness of a man perfectly aware of his talent and of his achievements, he replied, "You allude to my work as an engineer? The Wolkenstein bridge is indeed my first work, but it will hardly be my last."
Waltenberg was silenced. He had seen the gigantic structure spanning the yawning abyss, and he felt that he must give up treating as an adventurer the man who had devised it. Though he should aspire ten times over to the hand of the millionaire's daughter, there was stuff in this Elmhorst, even his antagonist must admit, however unwillingly.
"I have indeed admired the engineer of that magnificent work," he replied, after a pause.
"I am greatly flattered by your saying so,--you have seen all the finest bridges in the world."
The words sounded courteous, but the glances which the men exchanged were like rapiers. Each felt at this moment that something more than dislike--that positive hatred divided them.
Hitherto Erna had taken no part in the conversation; she probably perceived with whom the victory lay, for her voice betrayed annoyance as she interposed at last: "You had better give up contending with Herr Elmhorst. He is of iron, like his work, and there is no place in his world for romance. You and I belong to quite another one, and the abyss between his and ours no bridge can span."