t to leave the room, when, by an
inadvertent movement, Federico let fall his poniard. The Count was quick
of hearing, and the noise, slight as it was, drew his attention. He
turned sharply towards the spot where the student was concealed.

"What was that?" he cried. "Something fell in the closet. Have we
listeners here?"

For an instant he hesitated; then, taking one of the massive silver
candlesticks, he stepped briskly to the closet, and was almost knocked
down by the door, which Federico pushed violently open. The waxlights
fell to the ground; like a winged shadow, the student sprang past the
astonished Count, reached the door before the latter recovered from his
alarm, and would doubtless have got clear off, had he not, in hurry and
ignorance, turned the wrong handle. The Count grasped his coat-skirt,
and pulled him back.

"Scoundrel!" he cried. "What do you here?"

For sole reply, Federico seized his assailant by the throat, and a
struggle began, which, although speedily decided in favour of the active
student, was destined to have most important results. The Count was
vigorous, and defended himself well. He had little opportunity of
calling out, closely grappled as he was, but he dealt his antagonist
more than one heavy blow. At last Federico dashed him to the ground, and
disappeared from the room, leaving behind him one of his coat-skirts,
torn off in the contest. In falling, the Count's head struck against a
table, and he lay for a few seconds stunned by the shock. Recovering
himself, he sprang to his feet, foaming with rage, his dark visage black
with shame and anger. "Seize him!" he cried, hurrying down the corridor.
Twenty servants flew to obey the order. But it was too late. The student
passed like a fire-flash before the porter, and made good his escape
from the house. "Follow him!" shouted the Count--"a hundred ounces for
his captor!" And, stimulated by this princely reward, the eager
domestics ran, like hounds after a deer, on the track of the student,
who soon heard the shouts of his enemies, and the shrill whistle of the
_serenos_, around and on all sides of him.

Although panting from his brief but violent struggle with the Count,
Federico traversed with extreme swiftness several streets and squares,
until want of breath at last compelled him to a moment's pause. He
looked around, and observed the locality. Before him lay the massive
buildings of the royal palace, favoured by whose shadow he conti