ared to give these
thoughts utterance, it was because I knew _she loved another!_"

"Loved another?" screamed Trenta, losing all self-control and
tottering to his feet. "Loved another?" he repeated, every feature
working convulsively. "What do you mean?"

Marescotti rose also. Was it possible that Trenta could be in
ignorance, he asked himself, hurriedly, as he stared at the aged
chamberlain, trembling from head to foot.

"Loved another? You are mad, Count Marescotti, I always said so--mad!
mad!" Trenta gasped for breath. He was hardly able to articulate.

The count bowed to him ironically.

"Calm yourself, cavaliere," he said, haughtily, measuring from head
to foot the plump little cavaliere, who stood before him literally
panting with rage. "There is no need for violence. You and the
marchesa must have known of this. I shuddered, when I thought that
Enrica might have been driven into acquiescence with your proposal
against her will. I love her too much to have permitted it."

The cavaliere could with difficulty bring himself to allow Marescotti
to finish. He was too furious to take in the full sense of what he
said. His throat was parched.

"You must answer to me for this!" Trenta could barely articulate.
His voice was dry and hoarse. "You must--you shall. You have refused
Enrica, now you insult her. I demand--I demand satisfaction. No
excuse--no excuse!" he shouted. And seeing that Marescotti drew back
toward the window, the cavaliere pressed closer upon him, stamped
his foot upon the floor, and raised his clinched fist as near to the
count's face as his height permitted.

Had the official sword hung at Trenta's side, he would undoubtedly
have drawn it at that moment and attacked him. In the defense of
Enrica he forgot his age--he forgot every thing. His very voice had
changed into a manly barytone. In the absence of his sword, Trenta
was evidently about to strike Marescotti. As he advanced, the other
retreated.

A hot flush overspread the count's face for an instant, then it faded
out, and grew pale and rigid. He remembered the cavaliere's great age,
and checked himself. To avoid him, the count retreated to the farthest
limit of the room, hastily seized a chair, and barricaded himself
behind it. "I will not fight you, Cavaliere Trenta," he answered,
speaking with calmness.

"Ah, coward!" screamed Trenta, "would you dishonor me?"

"Cavaliere Trenta, this is folly," said the count, crossing his arms
on