A horrible smile lighted up Disbrowe’s features.

“You are the very person I want,” he said.  “When I would do evil, the fiend rises to my bidding.  If I am slain, you know what to do.  How shall I requite the service?”

“Do not concern yourself about that, captain,” rejoined Judith.  “I will take care of myself.”

About noon, on the following day, Disbrowe, without venturing to see his wife, left the house, and proceeded to the Smyrna, where, as he expected, he found Parravicin and his companions.

The knight instantly advanced towards him, and, laying aside for the moment his reckless air, inquired, with a look of commiseration, after his wife.

“She is better,” replied Disbrowe, fiercely.  “I am come to settle accounts with you.”

“I thought they were settled long ago,” returned Parravicin, instantly resuming his wonted manner.  “But I am glad to find you consider the debt unpaid.”

Disbrowe lifted the cane he held in his hand, and struck the knight with it forcibly on the shoulder.  “Be that my answer,” he said.

“I will have your life first, and your wife afterwards,” replied Parravicin, furiously.

“You shall have her if you slay me, but not otherwise,” retorted Disbrowe.  “It must be a mortal duel.”

“It must,” replied Parravicin.  “I will not spare you this time.”

“Spare him!” cried Pillichody.  “Shield of Agamemnon!  I should hope not.  Spit him as you would a wild boar.”

“Peace, fool!” cried Parravicin.  “Captain Disbrowe, I shall instantly proceed to the west side of Hyde Park, beneath the trees.  I shall expect you there.  On my return I shall call on your wife.”

“I pray you do so, sir,” replied Disbrowe, disdainfully.

Both then quitted the coffee-house, Parravicin attended by Rochester and Pillichody, and Disbrowe accompanied by a military friend, whom he accidentally encountered.  Each party taking a coach, they soon reached the ground,—­a retired spot, completely screened from observation by trees.  The preliminaries were soon arranged, for neither would admit of delay.  The conflict then commenced with great fury on both sides; but Parravicin, in spite of his passion, observed far more caution than his antagonist; and, taking advantage of an unguarded movement, occasioned by the other’s impetuosity, passed his sword through his body.

Disbrowe fell.

“You are again successful,” he groaned, “but save my wife—­save her.”

“What mean you?” cried Parravicin, leaning over him, as he wiped his sword.

But Disbrowe could make no answer.  His utterance was choked by a sudden effusion of blood on the lungs, and he instantly expired.  Leaving the body in care of the second, Parravicin and his friends returned to the coach, where the major rejoiced greatly at the issue of the duel; but the knight looked grave, and pondered upon the words of the dying man.  After a time, however, he recovered his spirits, and dined with his friends at the Smyrna; but they observed that he drank more deeply than usual.  His excesses did not, however, prevent him from playing with his usual skill, and he won a large sum from Rochester at hazard.