"Now, then," said Truxillo, "we are all ready, I suppose. I will retire to the ruinous wall, and you will please to stand where you are. ’Tis a very convenient distance. But what mean you by bringing an armed soldier with you here?" he exclaimed, his attention being attracted to Evan by the latter, in the excitement of the moment, loosening his bayonet in the sheath. "He is a private soldier of my own regiment. I had no other friend in Merida to accompany me." "Friend? A brave soldier requires none to assist him in defence of his honour. You must know, senor, that a Spanish cavalier, in an affair of this sort, seeks no other ally than a sharp blade and sure eye: however, desire your fellow to retire, that there may be no treachery. We draw lots for the first shot, I presume?" "Agreed, condé," answered Ronald, whose Highland blood was all on fire, and whose anger had been gradually increasing at the cavalier’s insolent demeanour and assumed tone of superiority, until he longed with a fierce eagerness to chastise him by the infliction of some severe bodily injury,—if not totally to deprive him of life. Lots were drawn by Doctor Mendizabal, and the _first_ shot fell to the condé. An expression of triumphant malice glittered in his large dark eyes; he smiled sourly, showing his white teeth, and retreated close to the ruinous wall, where he planted himself about sixteen paces off, and examined with the most scrupulous accuracy the flint, priming, and muzzle of his pistol. With the other in his right hand, Ronald stood erect, awaiting the condé’s fire. I must own, that when he heard the click of the lock, his heart for a moment failed him at the prospect of so sudden a death, and the fear of falling unrevenged: it was the feeling of a moment only,—the next he was all stern eagerness to be fired at, and to fire in his turn, should he survive. With clasped hands and starting eyes Evan watched the heart-stirring affair, stoutly resolving, should his master fall, to avenge him by driving his bayonet through the heart of Don Balthazzar. "_Cuidado; senor officiale_," cried the condé triumphantly; "Don Alvaro’s imprudence is likely to cost you dear. By our Lady of the Rock your life is forfeited. I am the most deadly shot in all Castile; but yet I would spare you on one condition,—that you swear by a soldier’s sacred word of honour, never again to come into the presence of Donna Catalina." "What right have you to dictate terms so degrading? Never, proud Spaniard! while I live, will I make such a promise." "Then die!" cried the other furiously. He raised his pistol: his eye glanced over the sight for a second,—he fired, and the surrounding ruins rang with the sharp report. Ronald’s pulses beat more freely as the hissing shot whistled through his Highland bonnet, sending one of the long black feathers which adorned it floating away on the evening breeze.