“But what is it all about, Leo?” Nina exclaimed; she was far more concerned about this mad project than he appeared to be.

“Oh, I can’t tell you that,” said he, lightly, “without telling you the name of the lady—­for of course there is a lady in it—­and that is never allowed.”

Nina sprang to her feet and stretched out her hands towards him.

“I know—­I know!” she said, in a breathless sort of way.  “Leo, you will not deny it to me—­it is Miss Burgoyne!  Ah, do I not know!—­she is a serpent!—­a cat!—­a devil!—­”

“Nina,” he said, almost angrily, “what are you talking about?  Do you suppose Miss Burgoyne would want a duel fought just because I happened to pass her, by accident, without raising my hat?—­it’s absurd.”

“Ah, there is more than that, Leo!” Nina cried, eagerly; and then she paused, in some hesitation and embarrassment.  “Yes, there is more than that,” she repeated, as if with an effort, and there was a slight flush in the pretty, pale face.  “Why should I not say it to you?  You are too simple, Leo.  You do not understand.  She wishes to have the reputation to be allied with you—­in the theatre—­out of the theatre.  Then she sees that you drive with me in an open carriage; she hates me—­what more natural?  And she is angry with you—­”

“Now, Nina,” said he, “do you think any woman could be so mad as to want to have a duel fought simply because she saw me driving past in a carriage with Mrs. Grey and you—­is it reasonable?”

“Leo, you did not see her last night,” Nina said, but still with a little embarrassment, “when she meets me in the corridor—­oh, such a furious woman!—­her face white, her eyes burning.  As for her insulting me, what may I care?  I am a foreigner, yes; if one says so, I am not wounded.  Perhaps the foreigners have better manners a little?—­but that is not of importance; no, what I say is, she will be overjoyed to have you fight a duel about her—­why, it is glory for her!—­every one will talk—­your names will be joined in newspapers—­when the people see you on the stage they will say, ’Ah, ah, he is back from fighting the duel; he must be mad in love with Miss Burgoyne.’  A duel—­yes, so unusual in England—­every one will talk—­ah, that will be the sweetest music for Miss Burgoyne’s ears in the whole world—­prouder than a queen she will be when the public have your name and her name rumored together.  And you do not understand it, Leo!”

He had been listening in silence, with something of vexation deepening upon his features.

“What you say only makes matters worse and worse!” he exclaimed, presently.  “If that were true, Nina—­just supposing that were the true state of the case—­why, I should be fighting a duel over a woman I don’t care twopence about, and with a young jackass whom I could kick across the street!  That is what I ought to have done!—­why didn’t I throw him down-stairs?  But the mischief of it is that the thing is now inevitable; I can’t back out?  I declare I never was in such a quandary in my life before!”