The name nerved me, as blood knits the sinews of the tiger. Once more my fingers closed upon my bridle, my feet became firm in the stirrups, and heart and arm swelled to their full strength. ’Twas but a light rapier that hung against my thigh—no matter; he might be no better weaponed; but even armed from head to heel, I feared him not. Three passions—hatred, jealousy, and revenge—supplied an arm of treble strength, and under the influence of these I felt bold and sure of conquest. Yes, I felt at that moment, as though I could have slain my hated rival with my naked hands.
I was no longer troubled with scruples of etiquette. No; this monster owed me satisfaction—life itself: he had striven to take mine; and now his should be forfeit to my vengeance. On that spot—even in her presence—should he die, or I myself become the victim. The two of us should never go thence alive. “Oh, that he may reach the ground while my blood is thus hot, and my hand ready!”
The fierce thoughts stirring within me must have roused my horse, for at that moment he tossed his head and neighed wildly. A response came like an echo from the glade, and the instant after, a voice called out.—
“Hola! quien va?”
Concealment was no longer possible. I saw that I was observed; and, spurring my horse into the open ground, I rode up, and halted face to face with Isolina.
Chapter Forty Six.
A Declaration on Horseback.
Face to face with my beautiful brunette. Her eyes flashed upon me with an expression of surprise. I felt abashed by the glance; my conduct was not en règle.