When the word was given to begin, he opened the attack with great energy and resolution, and was obviously intent on killing me if he could.  For a minute or two it was all I could do to hold my own; and partly to test his strength and skill, partly to get my hand in, I stood purposely on the defensive.

At the end of the first bout neither of us had received a scratch, but Griscelli showed signs of fatigue while I was quite fresh.  Also he was very angry and excited, and when we resumed he came at me with more than his former impetuosity, as if he meant to bear me down by the sheer weight and rapidity of his strokes.  His favorite attack was a cut aimed at my head.  Six several times he repeated this manoeuvre, and six times I stopped the stroke with the usual guard.  Baffled and furious, he tried it again, but—­probably because of failing strength—­less swiftly and adroitly.  My opportunity had come.  Quick as thought I ran under his guard, and, thrusting his right arm aside with my left hand, passed my sword through his body.

Then there were cries of bravo, for the popular feeling was on my side, and my seconds congratulated me warmly on my victory.  But I said little in reply, my attention being attracted by a young man who was kneeling beside Griscelli’s body and, as it might seem, saying a silent prayer.  When he had done he rose to his feet, and as I looked on his face I saw he was the dead man’s son.

“Sir, you have killed my father, and I shall kill you,” he said, in a calm voice, but with intense passion.  “Yes, I shall kill you, and if I fail my cousins will kill you.  If you escape us all, then we will charge our children to avenge the death of the man you have this day slain.  We are Corsicans, and we never forgive.  I know your name; mine is Giuseppe Griscelli.”

“You are distraught with grief, and know not what you say,” I said as kindly as I could, for I pitied the lad.  “But let not your grief make you unjust.  Your father died in fair fight.  If I had not killed him he would have killed me, and years ago he tried to hunt me to death for his amusement.”

“And I and mine—­we will hunt you to death for our revenge.  Or will you fight now?  I am ready.”

“No, I have no quarrel with you, and I should be sorry to hurt you.”

“Go your way, then, but remember—­”

“Better leave him; he seems half-crazed,” interposed Medina.  “Come into my house while my slaves remove the body.”

CHAPTER XXXV.

A NOVEL WAGER.

Three days afterward Carmen, apprised by his wife of my arrival, returned to Caracas, and I became their guest, greatly to my satisfaction, for the duel with Griscelli, besides making me temporarily famous, had brought me so many friends and invitations that I knew not how to dispose of them.

In discussing the incident with Salvador, I expressed surprise that Griscelli should have dared to return to a country where he had committed so many cruelties and made so many enemies.