THE DUKE (Drawing his long sword.) It would save trouble now to split you like a chicken for roasting…. (He shrugs, and sheathes his sword. He unbuckles his sword-belt, and lays it aside.) No, no, this farce ascends in interest. So let us play it fairly to the end. I risk nothing, since from this moment you are useless to me, my rebellious lackey—
GUIDO
You risk your life, for very certainly I mean to kill you.
THE DUKE Two go to every bargain, my friend. Now, if I kill you, it is always diverting to kill; and if by any chance you should kill me, I shall at least be rid of the intolerable knowledge that to-morrow will be just like to-day.
He draws his dagger. The two men engage warily but with determination, the DUKE presently advancing. GUIDO steps backward, and in the act trips over the pedler's pack, and falls prostrate. His dagger flies from his hand. GRACIOSA, with a little cry, has covered her face. Nobody strikes an attitude, because nobody is conscious of any need to be heroic, but there is a perceptible silence, which is broken by the DUKE'S quiet voice.
THE DUKE Well! am I to be kept waiting forever? You were quicker in obeying my caprices yesterday. Get up, you muddy lout, and let us kill each other with some pretension of adroitness.
GUIDO (Rising, with a sob.) Ah!
He catches up the fallen dagger, and attacks the DUKE, this time with utter disregard of the rules of fence and his own safety. GUIDO drives the DUKE back. GUIDO is careless of defence, and desirous only to kill. The DUKE is wounded, and falls with a cry at the foot of the shrine. GUIDO utters a sort of strangled growl. He raises his dagger, intending to hack at and mutilate his antagonist, who is now unconscious. As GUIDO stoops, GRACIOSA, from behind him, catches his arm.
GRACIOSA
He gave you your life.
GUIDO turns. He drops the weapon. He speaks with great gentleness, almost with weariness.
GUIDO
Madonna, the Duke is not yet dead. That wound is nothing serious.