‘You are a good swordsman, are you not, Balduccio?’
‘Fair. Why do you ask?’
‘Perhaps, if you would agree to fight a little duel for me—only if it were necessary—I might tell you what you are so anxious to know!’
‘At my age, and in my regiment, we do not fight duels except for very grave reasons,’ answered Castiglione.
‘Only a little innocent encounter,’ laughed Teresa. ‘Just to scratch a man’s hand or arm! What is that for a brave man and a good swordsman like you? Besides, I have made up my mind. I was only joking at first, but since you do not like the idea, I refuse to tell you what you wish to know. I have stated my condition, and you won’t accept it. I believe you’re afraid!’
‘Really!’ exclaimed Castiglione, beginning to be seriously annoyed.
‘Oh, no! It is of no use to argue! That or nothing! Either you are afraid, or you are not! I call you a coward!’
She turned away to throw the end of her cigarette into the fireplace. Castiglione moved and saw Monsieur de Maurienne, who had entered unannounced in time to hear the last words. Teresa had seen him, too.
‘I fear I am intruding, Madame,’ he said stiffly, and he bowed a little to them both.