"Captain Dundas, you had better make up your mind," said Almario, with a sneering aspect; "or our meeting may be ended in the dark like those of the bravos you so greatly despise."
"Sir!" I replied sternly, "I am not ashamed to acknowledge my ignorance of the management of this pig-butcher's weapon, and so—"
"So decline the contest?"
"No!—far from it; but I will meet you with my sabre or pistols."
"I will accept of neither; being determined to slay you: so if you stand not on the defensive, I will rush on and end the matter by a single blow."
This threat put an end to all further negotiation, and I felt the devil stirred up within me.
"For God's sake be wary!" whispered the visconte, as Zacheo bound a horse-cloak round my left arm; "keep the guard well up to protect your face and breast, and watch his eyes with the acuteness of a lynx."
"Remember this ring," I muttered hurriedly (assassination now seemed certain); "it is our poor Bianca's—and if anything happens—you understand me?"
"No—no—not I—if aught untoward happens, by the blood of San Gennaro! the colonel shall cross his blade with mine:" and he left me.
Standing now about twelve yards distant from my enemy, I felt not unlike a recruit when a loaded firelock is first placed in his hands: I knew not what position to assume, and was only restrained from protesting against the combat, by dread of the triumph such a course would afford to Almario. He saw my confusion: his dark eyes glittered with malice and joy; while my heart burned only with hatred and rage at the prospect of becoming a victim to an uncompromising guerilla, who deemed himself sure of easy victory over my inexperience.