Knowing the letter before I opened it to be from Don Lucio, I guessed that it must be a challenge, or something approaching it; so that I was not in the least astonished at its contents. “Sir,” said I to the messenger, “tell your employer on this occasion, that whether Italian or Spaniard, I have two daggers very much at his service, and that I am ready to fight him in my shirt, to prevent the possibility of foul play. No coats of mail for me; the really brave never make use of them in single combat. Let Don Lucio agree to these articles, and he shall find that I am ready to brave any danger to deserve the heart of Lucia. This is my answer.” “Give it me in writing,” replied the bearer of the letter, “that the regular Don Lucio may be convinced of my having delivered his message like a man of honour.” To satisfy this valiant messenger, I took the trouble of committing to paper the same words that I had just told him aloud, and he left me, promising to return in the afternoon, to fix the hour and the spot on which we should fight. After this rascal had left the room, I congratulated myself exceedingly that I had acquitted myself so manfully on this occasion, for though I had not the slightest inclination to fight, it was not the less necessary to assume the bravo, which has got many a man out of a scrape in similar cases, and which indeed was the only way in which I could receive so boisterous a gentleman. Let the worst come to the worst, however, thought I, my mules being always ready, I can at any time make a retreat. It is true that the idea of leaving Lucia would have caused me some pain, but I was not yet so much in love with her, as to hesitate between the possession of her and the preservation of my own sweet person.