urels bordered by hedges of roses. Santa Margherita,
putting his head out of the window, caught sight of another carriage
standing in the drive before the villa.

'They are waiting for us,' he said.

He consulted his watch--ten minutes yet to the hour agreed upon. He got
out of the carriage and went across with the other seconds and the
surgeons to the opponents. Andrea stayed behind in the avenue. He went
over, in his own mind, certain points of attack and defence he hoped to
employ successfully, but the miracles of light and shadow playing
fitfully through the interlacing laurels distracted his attention. While
his mind was occupied with the position of the wound he intended
inflicting, his eyes were attracted by the reeds shivering in the
morning breeze, and the trees, tender as the amorous allegories of
Petrarch, sighed gently over a head that was wholly absorbed in plans of
dealing a mortal blow.

Barbarisi came to call him.

'Everything is ready,' he said. 'The caretaker has opened the villa for
us--we have the rooms on the ground floor at our disposal--most
convenient. Come and undress.'

Andrea followed him. While he undressed, the two surgeons opened their
surgical cases and displayed the array of glittering steel instruments
within. One of them was a youngish man, pale, bald, and with feminine
hands and a hard mouth, with a continual and visible contraction of the
lower jaw, which was extraordinarily developed. The other was a thickset
man of mature years with a freckled face, bushy red beard and the neck
of an ox. The one seemed the antithesis of the other, and their
disparity excited Sperelli's curiosity and attention. They set out upon
a table bandages and carbolic acid for disinfecting the weapons. The
smell of the acid diffused itself through the room.

As soon as Sperelli was ready, he went out accompanied by his second and
the surgeons. Once again, the view of Rome seen through the laurels
attracted his eyes and made his heart beat fast. He was full of
impatience. He wished he could put himself on guard at that very
instant, and hear the signal for the attack. He seemed to have the
decisive thrust, the victory in his hand.

'Ready?' asked Santa Margherita advancing to meet him.

'Quite ready.'

The spot chosen for the encounter was a path at the side of the villa,
in the shade, and covered with fine rolled gravel. Rutolo was already
stationed there, at the further end, with Roberto Casteldier