Vittoria had caught sight of a white face framed in the autumnal forest above her head.  So keen was the glad expression of her face, that Weisspriess looked up.

‘Come, Angelo, come to me;’ she said confidently.

Weisspriess plucked his sword out, and called to him imperiously to descend.

Beckoned downward by white hand and flashing blade, Angelo steadied his feet and hands among drooping chestnut boughs, and bounded to Vittoria’s side.

‘Now march on,’ Weisspriess waved his sword; ‘you are my prisoners.’

‘You,’ retorted Angelo; ’I know you; you are a man marked out for one of us.  I bid you turn back, if you care for your body’s safety.’

’Angelo Guidascarpi, I also know you.  Assassin! you double murderer!  Defy me, and I slay you in the sight of your paramour.’

’Captain Weisspriess, what you have spoken merits death.  I implore of my Maker that I may not have to kill you.’

‘Fool! you are unarmed.’

Angelo took his stilet in his fist.

’I have warned you, Captain Weisspriess.  Here I stand.  I dare you to advance.’

‘You pronounce my name abominably,’ said the captain, dropping his sword’s point.  ’If you think of resisting me, let us have no women looking on.’  He waved his left hand at Vittoria.

Angelo urged her to go.  ‘Step on for our Carlo’s sake.’  But it was asking too much of her.

‘Can you fight this man?’ she asked.

‘I can fight him and kill him.’

‘I will not step on,’ she said.  ‘Must you fight him?’

‘There is no choice.’  Vittoria walked to a distance at once.

Angelo directed the captain’s eyes to where, lower in the pass, there was a level plot of meadow.

Weisspriess nodded.  ’The odds are in my favour, so you shall choose the ground.’

All three went silently to the meadow.

It was a circle of green on a projecting shoulder of the mountain, bounded by woods that sank toward the now shadowy South-flowing Adige vale, whose Western heights were gathering red colour above a strongly-marked brown line.  Vittoria stood at the border of the wood, leaving the two men to their work.  She knew when speech was useless.

Captain Weisspriess paced behind Angelo until the latter stopped short, saying, ‘Here!’

‘Wherever you please,’ Weisspriess responded.  ’The ground is of more importance to you than to me.’

They faced mutually; one felt the point of his stilet, the other the temper of his sword.

’Killing you, Angelo Guidascarpi, is the killing of a dog.  But there are such things as mad dogs.  This is not a duel.  It is a righteous execution, since you force me to it:  I shall deserve your thanks for saving you from the hangman.  I think you have heard that I can use my weapon.  There’s death on this point for you.  Make your peace with your Maker.’

Weisspriess spoke sternly.  He delayed the lifting of his sword that the bloody soul might pray.