“Signor Conte,” answered Nino, calmly, “nothing could be further from my thoughts than to insult you, or to treat you in any way with disrespect.  And I will not acknowledge that anything you can say can convey an insult to myself.”  Lira smiled in a sardonic fashion.  “But,” added Nino, “if it would give you any pleasure to fight, and if you have weapons, I shall be happy to oblige you.  It is a quiet spot, as you say, and it shall never be said that an Italian artist refused to fight a German soldier.”

“I have two pistols in my holsters,” said Lira, with a smile.  “The roads are not safe, and I always carry them.”

“Then, sir, be good enough to select one and to give me the other, and we will at once proceed to business.”

The count’s manner changed.  He looked grave.

“I have the pistols, Signor Cardegna, but I do not desire to use them.  Your readiness satisfies me that you are in earnest, and we will therefore not fight for amusement.  I need not defend myself from any charge of unwillingness, I believe,” he added, proudly.

“In that case, sir,” said Nino, “and since we have convinced each other that we are serious and desire to be courteous, let us converse calmly.”

“Have you anything more to say?” asked the count, once more allowing his horse to pace along the dusty road, while Nino’s mule walked by his side.

“I have this to say, Signor Conte,” answered Nino:  “that I shall not desist from desiring the honour of marrying your daughter, if you refuse me a hundred times.  I wish to put it to you whether with youth, some talent,—­I speak modestly,—­and the prospect of a plentiful income, I am not as well qualified to aspire to the alliance as Baron Benoni, who has old age, much talent, an enormous fortune, and the benefit of the Jewish faith into the bargain.”

The count winced palpably at the mention of Benoni’s religion.  No people are more insanely prejudiced against the Hebrew race than the Germans.  They indeed maintain that they have greater cause than others, but it always appears to me that they are unreasonable about it.  Benoni chanced to be a Jew, but his peculiarities would have been the same had he been a Christian or an American.  There is only one Ahasuerus Benoni in the world.

“There is no question of Baron Benoni here,” said the count severely, but hurriedly.  “Your observations are beside the mark.  The objections to the alliance, as you call it, are that you are a man of the people,—­I do not desire to offend you,—­a plebeian, in fact; you are also a man of uncertain fortune, like all singers:  and lastly, you are an artist.  I trust you will consider these points as a sufficient reason for my declining the honour you propose.”

“I will only say,” returned Nino, “that I venture to consider your reasons insufficient, though I do not question your decision.  Baron Benoni was ennobled for a loan made to a Government in difficulties; he was, by his own account, a shoemaker by early occupation, and a strolling musician—­a great artist if you like—­by the profession he adopted.”