"It is precisely the same thing. He doesn't know how to use any weapon, and I am very expert with all sorts." "Except the stiletto," said the marquis, "or the pistol at point-blank range; besides, you don't kill anybody but women." "I will kill that man at all events," replied Leoni. "And you think he will consent to fight with you?" "He will; he is brave enough." "But he isn't mad. He will begin by having us arrested as a couple of thieves." "He will begin by giving me satisfaction. I will force him to do it, I will strike him in the theatre." "He will return it by calling you forger, blackleg, card-sharper." "He will have to prove it. He is not known here, whereas we are fairly established here on a brilliant footing. I will call him a lunatic and visionary; and when I have killed him, everybody will think I was right." "You are mad, my dear fellow," replied the marquis; "Henryet is recommended to the richest merchants in Italy. His family is well known and bears a high reputation in commercial circles. He himself doubtless has friends in the city, or at all events acquaintances, with whom his statements will carry weight. He will fight to-morrow night, let us say. Very good! during the day he will have had time enough to tell twenty people that he is going to fight with you because he caught you cheating, and that you took it ill of him that he should try to prevent you." "Very well! he may say it and people may believe it if they choose, but I will kill him." "La Zagarolo will turn you out-of-doors and destroy her will. All the nobles will close their doors to you, and the police will request you to go to play the lover in some other country." "Very well! I will go somewhere else. The rest of the world will belong to me when I am well rid of that man." "Yes, and from his blood will sprout a pretty little nursery of accusers. Instead of Monsieur Henryet, you will have the whole city of Milan at your heels." "O heaven! what shall I do?" said Leoni, in sore perplexity. "Make an appointment with him in your wife's name, and cool his blood with a good hunting-knife. Give me that scrap of paper yonder and I'll write to him." Leoni, paying no heed, opened a window and fell into a reverie, while the marquis wrote. When he had finished he called him. "Listen to this, Leoni," he said, "and see whether I know how to write a _billet-doux_: