realize how the man had escaped him, except that when he thought over it, he breathed deep and shook his shoulders.  The mind will, as you may know, sometimes refuse to work when the sensations are shameful and astonished.  He despatched a messenger with a ‘good morrow’ to his mother, and then went to a fencing-saloon that was fitted up in the house of Count Medole, where, among two or three, there was the ordinary shrugging talk of the collapse of the projected outbreak, bitter to hear.  Luciano Romara came in, and Ammiani challenged him to small-sword and broadsword.  Both being ireful to boiling point, and mad to strike at something, they attacked one another furiously, though they were dear friends, and the helmet-wires and the padding rattled and smoked to the thumps.  For half an hour they held on to it, when, their blood being up, they flashed upon the men present, including the count, crying shame to them for letting a woman alone be faithful to her task that night.  The blood forsook Count Medole’s cheeks, leaving its dead hue, as when blotting-paper is laid on running-ink.  He deliberately took a pair of foils, and offering the handle of one to Ammiani, broke the button off the end of his own, and stood to face an adversary.  Ammiani followed the example:  a streak of crimson was on his shirt-sleeve, and his eyes had got their hard black look, as of the flint-stone, before Romara in amazement discovered the couple to be at it in all purity of intention, on the sharp edge of the abyss.  He knocked up their weapons and stood between them, puffing his cigarette leisurely.

‘I fine you both,’ he said.

He touched Ammiani’s sword-arm, nodded with satisfaction to find that there was no hurt, and cried, ’You have an Austrian out on the ground by this time tomorrow morning.  So, according to the decree!’

‘Captain Weisspriess is in the city,’ was remarked.

‘There are a dozen on the list,’ said little Pietro Cardi, drawing out a paper.

‘If you are to be doing nothing else to-morrow morning,’ added Leone Rufo, ‘we may as well march out the whole dozen.’

These two were boys under twenty.

‘Shall it be the first hit for Captain Weisspriess?’ Count Medole said this while handing a fresh and fairly-buttoned foil to Ammiani.

Romara laughed:  ’You will require to fence the round of Milan city, my dear count, to win a claim to Captain Weisspriess.  In the first place, I yield him to no man who does not show himself a better man than I. It’s the point upon which I don’t pay compliments.’

Count Medole bowed.

‘But, if you want occupation,’ added Luciano, closing his speech with a merely interrogative tone.

‘I scarcely want that, as those who know me will tell you,’ said Medole, so humbly, that those who knew him felt that he had risen to his high seat of intellectual contempt.  He could indulge himself, having shown his courage.