“I will have no contention with thee,” said Carlton, his feelings struggling warmly with his determination to avoid the course which his early education had taught him to regard with the utmost abhorrence.

“Then I will brand thee as a coward!”

“Until you do that, I shall never fight you,” said Carlton, calmly.  “I would rather lose my hand than draw the blood of one related by any ties to her I love; but if it must be so, you can take your own counsel.”

“This is fine language, signor.”

“It is honest language.”

“I should require other evidence to make me think so.”

“Because you cannot appreciate the feelings that dictate it.”

“In what respect?”

“As they are caused by my regard for Signora Florinda.”

“It is well to assume a virtue, if we have it not,” said the Italian, scornfully.

“I assume nothing, Signor Petro.”

“Flatter not yourself that you can escape me by this assumed tone of feeling, Signor Americano.”

“You have my answer, signor.”

“I shall take an early opportunity to keep you at your word,” was the menacing reply, and they separated.

Carlton would rather have engaged with any other person in an affair of this kind than with Petro, for obvious reasons; and, as he said to him, besides which, he had the greatest aversion to “affairs of honor,” but from principle only, for his was as brave a heart as ever drew sword.

Petro at length hit upon a plan which must necessarily bring on the desired meeting.  Accordingly, at the cordon of the Grand Duke, on the following week, at the Pitti Palace, when Carlton entered the gorgeous apartments, a murmur ran through the assembly, raised by the friends of Petro, who had preconcerted the plan, of “Coward, coward!”

It was uttered, as we have said, in whispers, but it is a word that can be heard a long distance.  The young American did not even change color, but turning his bright and sparkling eyes upon some of the principal offenders, he gave them a look that touched them keenly.  He did not evince by any outward appearance how deeply his pride was wounded, but he felt it at heart none the less severely.  He even looked more cheerful than was his wont, conversing gaily with the ladies of the court.  His fine noble countenance was lit up with additional spirit, and his friends even complimented him on his happy appearance.  Yet it was all forced-ay, a lie that his proud heart compelled him to.

“What a goodly outside falsehood hath!” How many there are like Carlton at that moment!  While they smile, they but hide a raging passion within.  A smile may cover up the wildest storm of the spirit, as well as show forth its own sunshine!