“Not so fast, not so fast, mon cher” he said, coolly.  “We are not murderers, we!  What devil possesses you, that you offer such unwarrantable insult to our host?”

“Ask him!” replied Ferrari, fiercely, struggling to release himself from the grasp of the two Frenchmen—­“he knows well enough!  Ask him!”

All eyes were turned inquiringly upon me.  I was silent.

“The noble conte is really not bound to give any explanation,” remarked Captain Freccia—­“even admitting he were able to do so.”

“I assure you, my friends,” I said, “I am ignorant of the cause of this fracas, except that this young gentleman had pretensions himself to the hand of the lady whose name affects him so seriously!”

For a moment I thought Ferrari would have choked.

“Pretensions—­pretensions!” he gasped.  “Gran Dio!  Hear him!—­hear the miserable scoundrel!”

“Ah, basta!” exclaimed Chevalier Mancini, scornfully—­“Is that all?  A mere bagatelle!  Ferrari, you were wont to be more sensible!  What! quarrel with an excellent friend for the sake of a woman who happens to prefer him to you!  Ma che!  Women are plentiful—­friends are few.”

“If,” I resumed, still methodically wiping the stains of wine from my coat and vest—­“if Signor Ferrari’s extraordinary display of temper is a mere outcome of natural disappointment, I am willing to excuse it.  He is young and hotblooded—­let him apologize, and I shall freely pardon him.”

“By my faith!” said the Duke di Marina with indignation, “such generosity is unheard of, conte!  Permit me to remark that it is altogether exceptional, after such ungentlemanly conduct.”

Ferrari looked from one to the other in silent fury.  His face had grown pale as death.  He wrenched himself from the grasp of D’Avencourt and De Hamal.

“Fools! let me go!” he said, savagely.  “None of you are on my side—­ I see that!” He stepped to the table, poured out a glass of water and drank it off.  He then turned and faced me—­his head thrown back, his eyes blazing with wrath and pain.

“Liar!” he cried again, “double-faced accursed liar!  You have stolen her—­you have fooled me—­but, by G-d, you shall pay for it with your life!”

“Willingly!” I said, with a mocking smile, restraining by a gesture the hasty exclamations of those around me who resented this fresh attack—­“most willingly, caro signor!  But excuse me if I fail to see wherein you consider yourself wronged.  The lady who is now my fiancee has not the slightest affection for you—­she told me so herself.  Had she entertained any such feelings I might have withdrawn my proposals—­but as matters stand, what harm have I done you?”

A chorus of indignant voices interrupted me.  “Shame on you, Ferrari!” cried Gualdro.  “The count speaks like a gentleman and a man of honor.  Were I in his place you should have had no word of explanation whatever.  I would not have condescended to parley with you—­by Heaven I would not!”