ll, generally speaking, he does. How can he remedy the matter? He
can only challenge his wife's lover. A duel is fought in which neither
of the opponents are killed, they wound each other slightly, embrace,
weep, have coffee together, and for the future consent to share the
lady's affections amicably."

"Veramente!" I exclaimed, with a forced laugh, inwardly cursing his
detestable flippancy; "that is the fashionable mode of taking
vengeance?"

"Absolutely the one respectable way of doing it," he replied; "it is
only the canaille who draw heart's blood in earnest."

Only the canaille! I looked at him fixedly. His smiling eyes met mine
with a frank and fearless candor. Evidently he was not ashamed of his
opinions, he rather gloried in them. As he stood there with the warm
sunlight playing upon his features he seemed the very type of youthful
and splendid manhood; an Apollo in exterior--in mind a Silenus. My soul
sickened at the sight of him. I felt that the sooner this strong
treacherous life was crushed the better; there would be one traitor
less in the world at any rate. The thought of my dread but just purpose
passed over me like the breath of a bitter wind--a tremor shook my
nerves. My face must have betrayed some sign of my inward emotion, for
Ferrari exclaimed:

"You are fatigued, conte? You are ill! Pray take my arm!"

He extended it as he spoke. I put it gently but firmly aside.

"It is nothing," I said, coldly; "a mere faintness which often
overcomes me, the remains of a recent illness." Here I glanced at my
watch; the afternoon was waning rapidly.

"If you will excuse me," I continued, "I will now take leave of you.
Regarding the pictures you have permitted me to select, my servant
shall call for them this evening to save you the trouble of sending
them."

"It is no trouble--" began Ferrari.

"Pardon me," I interrupted him; "you must allow me to arrange the
matter in my own way. I am somewhat self-willed, as you know."

He bowed and smiled--the smile of a courtier and sycophant--a smile I
hated. He eagerly proposed to accompany me back to my hotel, but I
declined this offer somewhat peremptorily, though at the same time
thanking him for his courtesy. The truth was I had had almost too much
of his society; the strain on my nerves began to tell; I craved to be
alone. I felt that if I were much longer with him I should be tempted
to spring at him and throttle the life out of him. As it was, I bade
him