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everal stop thrusts. 'In capital form!' the Baron congratulated him. Sperelli then took two cups of tea and some biscuits, donned a very easy pair of trousers, comfortable shoes with low heels and a very slightly starched shirt; he prepared his gloves by moistening the palm slightly and rubbing in powdered resin; arranged a leather strap for fastening the guard to his wrist; examined the blade and the point of both rapiers; omitted no precaution, no detail. When all was to his satisfaction--'Let us be going now,' he said; 'better be on the ground before the others. What about the doctor?' 'He will be waiting for us there.' On the way down stairs they met Grimiti, who had come on behalf of the Marchesa d'Ateleta. 'I shall follow you to the Villa and then bring the news as quickly as possible to Francesca,' said he. They all went down together. The Duke jumped into his buggy and the others entered a closed carriage. Andrea made no show of indifference or good spirits--to make jokes before engaging in a serious duel seemed to him execrably bad taste--but he was perfectly calm. He smoked and listened composedly to Santa Margherita and Barbarisi, who were discussing--apropos of a recent case in France--whether it was legitimate or not to use the left hand against an adversary. Now and again, he leaned forward to look out of the window. On this May morning Rome shone resplendent under the caressing sun. Here a fountain lit up with its silvery laughter a little piazzetta still plunged in shadow; there the open gates of a palace disclosed a vista of courtyard with a background of portico and statues; from the baroque architecture of a brick church hung the decorations for the month of Mary. Under the bridge, the Tiber gleamed and glistened as it hurried away between the gray-green houses towards the island of San Bartolomeo. After a short ascent, the whole city spread out before them, immense, imperial, radiant, bristling with spires and columns and obelisks, crowned with cupolas and rotundas, clean cut out of the blue like a citadel. '_Ave Roma, moriturus te salutat!_' exclaimed Andrea Sperelli, throwing away the end of his cigarette. 'Though, to tell the truth, my dear fellows.' he added, 'a sword-thrust would decidedly inconvenience me this morning.' They had reached the Villa Sciarra, already partially profaned by the builders of modern houses, and were passing through an avenue of tall and slender la
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