for the occasion. Vaguely I wondered what the effect would
be upon him. I was very much changed even without these disguising
glasses--my white beard and hair had seemingly altered my aspect--yet I
knew there was something familiar in the expression of my eyes that
could not fail to startle one who had known me well. My seconds would
consider it very natural that I should remove the smoke-colored
spectacles in order to see my aim unencumbered--the only person likely
to be disconcerted by my action was Ferrari himself. The more I thought
of it the more determined I was to do it. I had scarcely finished
dressing when Vincenzo entered with my overcoat, and informed me that
the marquis waited for me, and that a close carriage was in attendance
at the private door of the hotel.

"Permit me to accompany you, eccellenza!" pleaded the faithful fellow,
with anxiety in the tone of his voice.

"Come then, amico!" I said, cheerily. "If the marquis makes no
objection I shall not. But you must promise not to interrupt any of the
proceedings by so much as an exclamation."

He promised readily, and when I joined the marquis he followed,
carrying my case of pistols.

"He can be trusted, I suppose?" asked D'Avencourt, glancing keenly at
him while shaking hands cordially with me.

"To the death!" I replied, laughingly. "He will break his heart if he
is not allowed to bind up my wounds!"

"I see you are in good spirits, conte," remarked Captain Freccia, as we
took our seats in the carriage. "It is always the way with the man who
is in the right. Ferrari, I fear, is not quite so comfortable."

And he proffered me a cigar, which I accepted. Just as we were about to
start, the fat landlord of the hotel rushed toward us, and laying hold
of the carriage door--"Eccellenza," he observed in a confidential
whisper, "of course this is only a matter of coffee and glorias? They
will be ready for you all on your return. I know--I understand!" And he
smiled and nodded a great many times, and laid his finger knowingly on
the side of his nose. We laughed heartily, assuring him that his
perspicuity was wonderful, and he stood on the broad steps in high good
humor, watching us as our vehicle rumbled heavily away.

"Evidently," I remarked, "he does not consider a duel as a serious
affair."

"Not he!" replied Freccia. "He has known of too many sham fights to be
able to understand a real one. D'Avencourt knows something about that
too, though he alw