“One evening—­I have just finished, my lord—­the princess chose to sup alone with her lady-in-waiting:  the rarest fruits, the most exquisite dishes, and the most delicate wines were served to my poor mother, whose prolonged privations had injured her health and weakened her reason; she gave way to a morbid gaiety.  Diabolical philtres were poured into her cup; that is another tradition in your family.  My mother felt uplifted, her eyes shone with feverish brilliance, her cheeks were on fire.  Then the prince came in—­oh! your excellency will see that God protects the poor.  My darling mother, like a frightened dove, sheltered herself in the bosom of the princess, who pushed her away, laughing.  The poor distraught girl, trembling, weeping, knelt down in the midst of that infamous room.  It was St. Anne’s Day; all at once the house shook, the walls cracked, cries of distress rang out in the streets.  My mother was saved.  It was the earthquake that destroyed half Naples.  You know all about it, my lord, since your old palace is no longer habitable.”

“What are you driving at?” cried Brancaleone in terrible agitation.

“Oh, I merely wish to persuade you that you must fight with me,” answered the fisherman coldly, as he offered him a cartridge.  “And now,” he added, in an excited tone, “say your prayers, my lord; for I warn you, you will die by my hand; justice must be done.”

The prince carefully examined the powder and shot, made sure that his rifle was in good condition; loaded it, and, eager to make an end, took aim at the fisherman; but, either because he had been so much disturbed by his opponent’s terrible tale, or, because the grass was wet from the storm, at the moment when he put forward his left foot to steady his shot, he slipped, lost his balance and fell on one knee.  He fired into the air.

“That does not count, my lord,” cried Gabriel instantly, and handed him a second charge.

At the noise of the report Solomon had appeared at the window, and, understanding what was going on, had lifted his hands to heaven, in order to address to God a dumb and fervent prayer.  Eligi uttered a frightful inprecation, and hastily reloaded his rifle; but, struck by the calm confidence of the young man, who stood motionless before him, and by the old man, who, impassive and undisturbed, seemed to be conjuring God in the name of a father’s authority, disconcerted by his fall, his knees shaking and his arm jarred, he felt the chills of death running in his veins.  Attempting, nevertheless, to master his emotion, he took aim a second time; the bullet whistled by the fisherman’s ear and buried itself in the stem of a poplar.

The prince, with the energy of despair, seized the barrel of his weapon in both hands; but Gabriel was coming forward with his axe, a terrible foe, and his first stroke carried away the butt of the rifle.  He was still hesitating, however, to kill a defenceless man, when two armed servants appeared at the end of the pathway.  Gabriel did not see them coming; but at the moment when they would have seized him by the shoulders, Solomon uttered a cry and rushed to his son’s assistance.