eretics fight, save with their fists? It was the other man's lookout,
not his. He put the duel out of his mind as a thing accomplished.
Shortly he would have compensation commensurate for all these five
years' chagrin. To elude him all this time, to laugh in his face, to
defy him, and then to step deliberately into his power! He never could
understand this woman. The little prude! But for her fool's conscience
he would not have been riding the beggar's horse to-day. She was now too
self-reliant, too intelligent, too cunning; she was her father over
again, soldier and diplomat. Well, the mystery of her actions remained,
but he was no longer the broken noble. So why should he puzzle over the
whys and wherefores of her motives? Ah! and would he not dig his hands
deep into the dusty sacks of gold and silver? Life again, such as he
craved; good cigars and good wine and pretty women who were no ardent
followers of Minerva. To jam part of this money down the throats of his
yelping creditors, to tear up his paper and fling it into the faces of
the greedy Jews! Ha, this would be to live! Paris, or Vienna, or London,
where he willed; for what hold had the army now?

He was an expert horseman, but, like all Italians, he was by nature
cruel. As he passed the gates the horse slid and stumbled to his knees;
he was up instantly, only to receive a hard stroke between the ears.
This unexpected treatment caused the animal to rear and waltz. This was
not the stolid-going campaign mount, but his best Irish hunter, on which
he had won prizes in many a gymkhana. There was a brief struggle, during
which the man became master both of himself and the horse. They were
just passing the confines of the villa when a man darted out suddenly
from the shadows and seized the bridle.

"At last, my prince!"

"Giovanni?"

Instinctively the prince reached for his saber, knowing that he had need
of it, but the scabbard was empty. He cursed the folly which had made
him lose it. This encounter promised to be a bad one. What mouth of hell
had opened to cast this beggar, of all men, in his path? Oddly enough
his thought ran swiftly back to the little _casa_ in the Sabine
Hills.... Bah! Full of courage, knowing that one or the other would not
leave this spot alive, he struck his horse with purpose this time, to
run his man down. But Giovanni did not lose his hold; hate and the
nearness of revenge made him strong.

"No, no!" he laughed. "She is dead, my prin