“Why, yes, I have been struck!” said Biagio. “Come in, Nannetta. We were so comfortable in the country, we two, were we not? I have acted foolishly, but what will you? I must pay for it, as I told you—”
“A duel?” Nannetta asked him, terrified.
“Of course. Struck, I tell you.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
Nannetta kissed his cheek. “Dear, and if they kill you? Have you thought of that?”
“No, really I have not!” said Biagio, shrugging his shoulders, and he continued staring impatiently out of the window.
Nannetta followed him, but instead of staring down into the street she began gazing up at the stars, which glowed thickly in the moonless sky. She sighed, and said: “Do you know, Biagio, that I really wish you would not fight this duel?”
Struck by the strange tone of her voice, Biagio asked her with a forced smile: “Are you so fond of me?”
Nannetta shrugged her shoulders, smiling mournfully; she closed her eyes, and replied: “How do I know?—I do not want—”