off to a
retired corner behind some trees. We surveyed the ground, and saw that
as yet only one person beside ourselves had arrived. This was the
surgeon, a dapper good-humored little German who spoke bad French and
worse Italian, and who shook hands cordially with us all. On learning
who I was he bowed low and smiled very amiably. "The best wish I can
offer to you, signor," he said, "is that you may have no occasion for
my services. You have reposed yourself? That is well--sleep steadies
the nerves. Ach! you shiver! True it is, the morning is cold."

I did indeed experience a passing shudder, but not because the air was
chilly. It was because I felt certain--so terribly certain, of killing
the man I had once loved well. Almost I wished I could also feel that
there was the slightest possibility of his killing me; but no!--all my
instincts told me there was no chance of this. I had a sort of sick
pain at my heart, and as I thought of HER, the jewel-eyed snake who had
wrought all the evil, my wrath against her increased tenfold. I
wondered scornfully what she was doing away in the quiet convent where
the sacred Host, unveiled, glittered on the altar like a star of the
morning. No doubt she slept; it was yet too early for her to practice
her sham sanctity. She slept, in all probability most peacefully, while
her husband and her lover called upon death to come and decide between
them. The slow clear strokes of a bell chiming from the city tolled
six, and as its last echo trembled mournfully on the wind there was a
slight stir among my companions. I looked and saw Ferrari approaching
with his two associates. He walked slowly, and was muffled in a thick
cloak; his hat was pulled over his brows, and I could not see the
expression of his face, as he did not turn his head once in my
direction, but stood apart leaning against the trunk of a leafless
tree. The seconds on both sides now commenced measuring the ground.

"We are agreed as to the distance, gentlemen," said the marquis.
"Twenty paces, I think?"

"Twenty paces," stiffly returned one of Ferrari's friends--a
battered-looking middle-aged roue with ferocious mustachios, whom I
presumed was Captain Ciabatti.

They went on measuring carefully and in silence. During the pause I
turned my back on the whole party, slipped off my spectacles and put
them in my pocket. Then I lowered the brim of my hat slightly so that
the change might not be observed too suddenly--and resuming