The blue and azure waves of the sea of Naples on that night seemed dark as ink. The wind agitated them. Calm as they usually are, and like a vast cemetery, the tombs of which open to receive the dead, they opened before the prow of the boat like a grave, as they were intended to be. At a distance of about three hundred fathoms the two adversaries ceased to row and replaced the oars in the gondola. Without speaking, they took out the pistols, examined their locks, and opened them.
"Signor," said Monte-Leone, "I thank you for the honor you have done me in deigning to use my arms."
"The arms of Count Monte-Leone are not to be refused."
"A true hand gives them."
"A true hand receives them."
Nothing more was said. They then proceeded to place themselves at the several ends of the boat. The Count uncovered himself. Maulear did also. They let fall their cloaks and opened the linen which covered their bosoms. They raised their pistols, took aim, and were about to fire.
The door of the cabin was thrown open, and Aminta rushed to the centre of the gondola. Gaetano followed her. The weapons fell from the hands of the rivals; and in terror and surprise they looked on this apparition. Not a cry escaped from their lips. Pale and motionless, they looked at each other without, at first, recognizing Aminta. Not a word passed their lips. Terror-stricken, they fancied themselves in the presence of some heavenly being, sent, like the angel of peace, to rescue them from death. The voice of Aminta, full of trouble and terror, echoed over the waves, like that of an angel, and alone aroused them from the ecstatic state in which they were plunged.
"Signori," said she, "I might sooner have put a stop to this atrocious duel, the very idea of which terrifies me; had it not have been so near its completion, you would, perhaps, have denied the intention to fight after all, within a few days. Thanks to the assistance of Gaetano, my childhood's friend, who yesterday evening became acquainted with your intention, I have by God's aid been able to prevent it. I wished my presence to be grave and solemn, that you might never renew the attempt; in order that, as it were, in the presence of God and of death, you might know my fixed determination. I would not be burdened with an existence which had cost the life of a fellow-being: you, Signor Monte-Leone, by the revered manes of your father; and you, Marquis de Maulear, by all you love, I conjure to swear that you will respect the life of him I shall accept as my husband."
"Impose no such oath on me," said Monte-Leone.