"Be it so," returned Don Luis; "I wish to be generous."
The count took up the cards again, and proceeded to deal.
"Stop a moment," said Don Luis; "let us understand each other. Where is the money for your new bank?"
The count showed signs of confusion and disturbance.
"I have no money here," he returned, "but it seems to me that my word is more than enough."
Don Luis answered, with grave and measured accent:
"Count, I should be quite willing to trust the word of a gentleman, and allow him to remain in my debt, if it were not that in doing so I should fear to lose your friendship, which I am now in a fair way to gain; but, as I was a witness this morning to the cruelty with which you treated certain friends of mine, to whom you are indebted, I do not wish to run the risk of becoming culpable in your eyes by means of the same fault. How ridiculous to suppose that I should voluntarily incur your enmity by lending you money which you would not repay me, as you have not repaid, except with insults, that which you owe Pepita Ximenez!"
From the fact that this accusation was true, the offense was all the greater. The count became livid with anger, and, by this time on his feet, ready to come to blows with the collegian.
"You lie, slanderer!" he exclaimed. "I shall tear you limb from limb, you——"
This last insult, which concerned the honor of her whose memory was most sacred to him, was never finished; its end never reached his ears. For, with marvelous quickness, dexterity, and force, he reached across the table which was between himself and the count, and, with the light, flexible bamboo cane with which he had armed himself, struck his antagonist on the face, raising on it instantly a dark purple welt.