ays kills his man. But very often it is sufficient to
scratch one another with the sword-point so as to draw a quarter of a
drop of blood, and honor is satisfied! Then the coffee and glorias are
brought, as suggested by our friend the landlord."

"It is a ridiculous age," said the marquis, taking his cigar from his
mouth, and complacently surveying his small, supple white hand,
"thoroughly ridiculous, but I determined it should never make a fool of
ME. You see, my dear conte, nowadays a duel is very frequently decided
with swords rather than pistols, and why? Because cowards fancy it is
much more difficult to kill with the sword. But not at all. Long ago I
made up my mind that no man should continue to live who dared to insult
me. I therefore studied swordplay as an art. And I assure you it is a
simple matter to kill with the sword--remarkably simple. My opponents
are astonished at the ease with which I dispatch them!"

Freccia laughed. "De Hamal is a pupil of yours, marquis, is he not?"

"I regret to say yes! He is marvelously clumsy. I have often earnestly
requested him to eat his sword rather than handle it so boorishly. Yet
he kills his men, too, but in a butcher-like manner--totally without
grace or refinement. I should say he was about on a par with our two
associates, Ferrari's seconds."

I roused myself from a reverie into which I had fallen.

"What men are they?" I inquired.

"One calls himself the Capitano Ciabatti, the other Cavaliere Dursi, at
your service," answered Freccia, indifferently. "Good swearers both and
hard drinkers--filled with stock phrases, such as 'our distinguished
dear friend, Ferrari, 'wrongs which can only be wiped out by
blood'--all bombast and braggadocio! These fellows would as soon be on
one side as the other."

He resumed his smoking, and we all three lapsed into silence. The drive
seemed very long, though in reality the distance was not great. At last
we passed the Casa Ghirlande, a superb chateau belonging to a
distinguished nobleman who in former days had been a friendly neighbor
to me, and then our vehicle jolted down a gentle declivity which sloped
into a small valley, where there was a good-sized piece of smooth flat
greensward. From this spot could be faintly discerned the castellated
turrets of my own house, the Villa Romani. Here we came to a
standstill. Vincenzo jumped briskly down from his seat beside the
coachman, and assisted us to alight. The carriage then drove