h.

"Murderer!" shrieked the shepherd, desperately, making a frantic
struggle to rise, but not succeeding.

This ominous word, with all the terrible weight of meaning it conveyed,
struck upon the young Italian's ear like a sound of-doom. A murderer?
Yes, he would be a murderer, if he slew old Solara then and there, and
branded with an assassin's dark crime he must forever resign all hope of
possessing his beloved Zuleika, must abandon her to die of a broken
heart! Perhaps, too, he would be seized, tried, condemned and meet a
felon's fate upon the ignominious scaffold! True, Roman justice might be
silenced with money, but he was a disowned and disinherited son, a
penniless outcast! These thoughts brought him to a realization of the
black depths of the yawning gulf into which he was about to plunge and
made him hesitate. But a quick idea came to his relief--if he were to
fight a duel with old Solara and kill him thus the Roman law would not
pursue him, he would not be stamped with a murderer's crime! He would do
it, he would fight him! Springing to his feet, he drew a second pistol,
and, casting it upon the ground beside his astonished foe, said to him,
speaking slowly and impressively:

"Pasquale Solara, I will give you a chance for your life! Rise, take
that pistol and face me! We will fight!"

The shepherd arose with some difficulty; he was considerably bruised and
had, besides, seriously strained one of his legs. Taking up the weapon,
he cocked it and without a word, but with a look of demoniac ferocity
and triumph upon his evil countenance, assumed a position about twenty
paces distant from his opponent. Instantly both raised their pistols and
fired. When the light smoke cleared away it became evident that neither
of them had been hit. Old Solara cast his empty weapon from him with a
curse and, producing a pair of long, keen-bladed knives, threw one of
them towards the Viscount.

"You challenged me and I accepted!" he said, in a harsh tone. "Now I
challenge you! Take that knife and fight me!"

Massetti hesitated, with a look of horror upon his countenance. A duel
with knives! It was barbarous! It was worthy of the red savages of the
American wilds!

"Take the knife, I say!" thundered old Solara. "Take it and face me, or
by the canopy of heaven I will show you less mercy than you have been
weak enough to show me! I will stab you to the heart where you stand!"

He advanced with his murderous weapon in his outs