though it was of great value in determining his own action.  To say aloud to the world that Giovanni loved the Duchessa d’Astrardente would be of little use.  Del Ferice could not, for very shame, tell how he had found it out; and there was no other proof but his evidence, for he guessed that from that time forward the open relation between the two would be even more formal than before—­and the most credulous people do not believe in a great fire unless they can see a little smoke.  He had not even the advantage of turning the duel to account in his interest with Donna Tullia, since Giovanni could force him to deny that she was implicated in the question, on pain of exposing his treachery.  There was palpably no satisfactory way out of the matter unless he could kill his adversary.  He would have to leave the country for a while; but Giovanni once dead, it would be easy to make Donna Tullia believe they had fought on her account, and to derive all the advantage there was to be gained from posing before the world as her defender.

But though Del Ferice’s rest was disturbed by the contemplation of his difficulties, he did not neglect any precaution which might save his strength for the morrow.  He lay down upon his bed, stretching himself at full length, and carefully keeping his right arm free, lest, by letting his weight fall upon it as he lay, he should benumb the muscles or stiffen the joints; from time to time he rubbed a little strengthening ointment upon his wrist, and he was careful that the light should not shine in his eyes and weary them.  At six o’clock his seconds appeared with the surgeon they had engaged, and the four men were soon driving rapidly down the Corso towards the gate.

So punctual were the two parties that they arrived simultaneously at the gate of the villa which had been selected for the encounter.  The old Prince took a key from his pocket and himself opened the great iron gate.  The carriages drove in, and the gates were closed by the astonished porter, who came running out as they creaked upon their hinges.  The light was already sufficient for the purpose of fencing, as the eight men descended simultaneously before the house.  The morning was cloudy, but the ground was dry.  The principals and seconds saluted each other formally.  Giovanni withdrew to a little distance on one side with his surgeon, and Del Ferice stood aside with his.

The melancholy Spicca, who looked like the shadow of death in the dim morning light, was the first to speak.

“Of course you know the best spot in the villa?” he said to the old Prince.

“As there is no sun, I suggest that they fight upon the ground behind the house.  It is hard and dry.”

The whole party followed old Saracinesca.  Spicca had the foils in a green bag.  The place suggested by the Prince seemed in every way adapted, and Del Ferice’s seconds made no objection.  There was absolutely no choice of position upon the ground, which was an open space about twenty yards square, hard and well rolled, preferable in every way to a grass lawn.