With the other in his right hand, Ronald stood erect, awaiting the condé's fire.
I must own, that when he heard the click of the lock, his heart for a moment failed him at the prospect of so sudden a death, and the fear of falling unrevenged: it was the feeling of a moment only,—the next he was all stern eagerness to be fired at, and to fire in his turn, should he survive. With clasped hands and starting eyes Evan watched the heart-stirring affair, stoutly resolving, should his master fall, to avenge him by driving his bayonet through the heart of Don Balthazzar.
"Cuidado; senor officiale," cried the condé triumphantly; "Don Alvaro's imprudence is likely to cost you dear. By our Lady of the Rock your life is forfeited. I am the most deadly shot in all Castile; but yet I would spare you on one condition,—that you swear by a soldier's sacred word of honour, never again to come into the presence of Donna Catalina."
"What right have you to dictate terms so degrading? Never, proud Spaniard! while I live, will I make such a promise."
"Then die!" cried the other furiously. He raised his pistol: his eye glanced over the sight for a second,—he fired, and the surrounding ruins rang with the sharp report. Ronald's pulses beat more freely as the hissing shot whistled through his Highland bonnet, sending one of the long black feathers which adorned it floating away on the evening breeze.
"Praise be to the Lord in Heaven! ye have escaped," said Evan, fervently. "But it's your turn now, sir: level low, and if the muzzle rises ye'll be sure to wing him like ony muir-cock; and mony a gude thousand we've bagged thegither in Strathonan, and mony mair we'll bag gin we get ower this awfu' adventure."
"Dios y Demonios! some demon of hell has turned aside my hand. I have shot at a score, and never yet swerved in my aim," cried the condé in a hoarse tone of anger and surprise, when as the smoke cleared off he beheld his antagonist still standing erect before him. "No! by Santiago, I never missed before. You have stood my discharge bravely, senor cavalier; but my courage is not less than your own. Fire!" he cried, laying his hand upon his heart.
"Noo, Maister Ronald,—noo, sir! O be calm; may be ye'll never hae sic anither chance. This chield look's unco saucy; but mind ye the auld proverb, "Ilka cock craws crouse on its ain middenstead." Its most awfu' wark this for a Sabbath evening; but oh, sir! level low; mark the buckle o' his waist-belt, and if the piece throws high, like the ither, the braw dies at his button-holes stand a bad chance." Evan spoke in an anxious and hurried tone, while he eyed the condé with no slight feeling of hatred and animosity. Ronald levelled his pistol at the tall and finely formed figure of his brave opponent, who surveyed him steadily, without a muscle of his noble features changing.
"I can never thus coldly shoot so fine a fellow," thought the generous Highlander, and fired his weapon in the air. An exclamation of sorrow from Evan, and another of angry surprise from the Spaniard, followed the report.
"Santos Santissimos! what mean you by this? Am I unworthy of being fired at? You have most grossly insulted me by this action, senor; and you ought to have considered the very great honour I did you, in becoming personally your antagonist."