As he descended he was surprised to see Sant’ Ilario standing upon the pavement, very pale, and apparently in a bad humour, his overcoat buttoned to his throat, and his hands thrust in the pockets.  There was no one in the street, but the sentinel at the doorway, and Giovanni walked quickly up to Gouache as the latter fumbled for the change to pay his driver.  Anastase smiled and made a short military salute.  Sant’ Ilario bowed stiffly and did not extend his hand.

“I tried to find you last night,” he said coldly.  “You were out.  Will you favour me with five minutes’ conversation?”

“Willingly,” answered the other, looking instinctively at his watch, to be sure that he had time to spare.

Sant’ Ilario walked a few yards up the street, before speaking, Gouache keeping close to his side.  Then both stopped, and Giovanni turned sharply round and faced his enemy.

“It is unnecessary to enter into any explanations, Monsieur Gouache,” he said.  “This is a matter which can only end in one way.  I presume you will see the propriety of inventing a pretext which may explain our meeting before the world.”

Gouache stared at Sant’ Ilario in the utmost amazement.  When they had last met they had parted on the most friendly terms.  He did not understand a word of what his companion was saying.

“Excuse me, prince,” he said at length.  “I have not the least idea what you mean.  As far as I am concerned this meeting is quite accidental.  I came here on duty.”

Sant’ Ilario was somewhat taken aback by the Zouave’s polite astonishment.  He seemed even more angry than surprised, however; and his black eyebrows bent together fiercely.

“Let us waste no words,” he said imperiously.  “If I had found you last night, the affair might have been over by this time.”

“What affair?” asked Gouache, more and more mystified.

“You are amazingly slow of comprehension, Monsieur Gouache,” observed Giovanni.  “To be plain, I desire to have an opportunity of killing you.  Do you understand me now?”

“Perfectly,” returned the soldier, raising his brows, and then breaking into a laugh of genuine amusement.  “You are quite welcome to as many opportunities as you like, though I confess it would interest me to know the reason of your good intentions towards me.”

If Gouache had behaved as Giovanni had expected he would, the latter would have repeated his request that a pretext should be found which should explain the duel to the world.  But there was such extraordinary assurance in the Zouave’s manner that Sant’ Ilario suddenly became exasperated with him and lost his temper, a misfortune which very rarely happened to him.

“Monsieur Gouache,” he said angrily, “I took the liberty of visiting your lodgings yesterday afternoon, and I found this letter, fastened with this pin upon your table.  I presume you will not think any further explanation necessary.”