“Fools! let me go!” he said, savagely. “None of you are on my side—I see that!” He stepped to the table, poured out a glass of water and drank it off. He then turned and faced me—his head thrown back, his eyes blazing with wrath and pain.
“Liar!” he cried again, “double-faced accursed liar! You have stolen HER—you have fooled me—but, by G-d, you shall pay for it with your life!”
“Willingly!” I said, with a mocking smile, restraining by a gesture the hasty exclamations of those around me who resented this fresh attack—“most willingly, caro signor! But excuse me if I fail to see wherein you consider yourself wronged. The lady who is now my fiancee has not the slightest affection for you—she told me so herself. Had she entertained any such feelings I might have withdrawn my proposals—but as matters stand, what harm have I done you?”
A chorus of indignant voices interrupted me. “Shame on you, Ferrari!” cried Gualdro. “The count speaks like a gentleman and a man of honor. Were I in his place you should have had no word of explanation whatever. I would not have condescended to parley with you—by Heaven I would not!”
“Nor I!” said the duke, stiffly.
“Nor I!” said Mancini.
“Surely,” said Luziano Salustri, “Ferrari will make the amende honorable.”
There was a pause. Each man looked at Ferrari with some anxiety. The suddenness of the quarrel had sobered the whole party more effectually than a cold douche. Ferrari’s face grew more and more livid till his very lips turned a ghastly blue—he laughed aloud in bitter scorn. Then, walking steadily up to me, with his eyes full of baffled vindictiveness, he said, in a low clear tone:
“You say that—you say she never cared for me—you! and I am to apologize to you! Thief, coward, traitor—take that for my apology!” And he struck me across the mouth with his bare hand so fiercely that the diamond ring he wore (my diamond ring) cut my flesh and slightly drew blood. A shout of anger broke from all present! I turned to the Marquis D’Avencourt.
“There can be but one answer to this,” I said, with indifferent coldness. “Signor Ferrari has brought it on himself. Marquis, will you do me the honor to arrange the affair?”