'You will not forget our terms,' observed Parravicin. 'I am to be your representative to-night. You can return home to-morrow.' 'Throw, sir,--throw,' cried the young man, fiercely. 'Pardon me,' replied the knight; 'the first cast is with you. A single main decides it.' 'Be it so,' returned Disbrowe, seizing the bow. And as he shook the dice with a frenzied air, the bystanders drew near the table to watch the result. 'Twelve!' cried Disbrowe, as he removed the box. 'My honour is saved! My fortune retrieved--Huzza!' 'Not so fast,' returned Parravicin, shaking the box in his turn. 'You were a little hasty,' he added, uncovering the dice. 'I am twelve too. We must throw again.' 'This is to decide,' cried the young officer, rattling the dice,--'Six!' Parravicin smiled, took the box, and threw _TEN_. 'Perdition!' ejaculated Disbrowe, striking his brow with his clenched hand. 'What devil tempted me to my undoing?... My wife trusted to this profligate!... Horror! It must not be!' 'It is too late to retract,' replied Parravicin, taking up the key, and turning with a triumphant look to his friends. Disbrowe noticed the smile, and, stung beyond endurance, drew his sword, and called to the knight to defend himself. In an instant passes were exchanged. But the conflict was brief. Fortune, as before, declared herself in favour of Parravicin. He disarmed his assailant, who rushed out of the room, uttering the wildest ejaculations of rage and despair. * * * * * * The winner of the key proceeded at once to use. He gained admittance to the captain's house, and found his way to the chamber of his wife, who was then in bed. At first mistaken for her husband Parravicin heard words of tender reproach for his lateness; and then, declaring himself, he belied her husband, stating that he was false to her, and had surrendered her to him. At this announcement Mrs Disbrowe uttered a loud scream, and fell back in the bed. Parravicin waited for a moment; but not hearing her move, brought the lamp to see what was the matter. She had fainted, and was lying across the pillow, with her night-dress partly open, so as to expose her neck and shoulders. The knight was at first ravished with her beauty; but his countenance suddenly fell, and an expression of horror and alarm took possession of it. He appeared rooted to the spot, and instead of attempting to render her any assistance, remained with his gaze fixed upon her neck. Rousing himself at length, he rushed out of the room, hurried down-stairs, and without pausing for a moment, threw open the street door. As he issued from it his throat was forcibly griped, and the point of a sword was placed at his breast. It was the desperate husband, who was waiting to avenge his wife's honour. 'You are in my power, villain,' cried Disbrowe, 'and shall not escape my vengeance.' 'You are already avenged,' replied Parravicin, shaking off his assailant--'_YOUR WIFE HAS THE PLAGUE_.'