"But, signor," he said, "if you are not mad, you must have some reason for fighting with me. What have I done to you?" "It does not please me to tell you," I replied, "and you are a coward to ask for my reasons for revenge, when you should demand satisfaction of me." "What for?" he rejoined. "I never saw you before. It is not light enough for me to distinguish your features, but I am sure that this is the first time that I ever heard your voice." "Dastard, have you no cause to be revenged on a man who has made sport of you, who has procured an assignation to be given you in order to play a joke upon you, and who has brought you here against your will to insult you? I was told that you were brave. Must I strike you to arouse your courage?" "You are an insolent scoundrel," he said, making an effort to work himself into a passion. "Very good! I demand satisfaction for that remark, and I propose to take satisfaction at once with this blow." I struck him lightly on the cheek. He uttered a roar of rage and fear. "Have no fear," I said, holding him with one hand and giving him a sword with the other. "Defend yourself. I know that you are the first swordsman in Europe; I am far from being your equal. It is true that I am calm and you are frightened, which equalizes our chances." Giving him no time to reply, I attacked him fiercely. The wretch threw his sword away and ran. I followed him, overtook him and shook him furiously. I threatened to throw him into the sea and drown him if he did not defend himself. When he saw that it was impossible for him to escape, he took the sword and mustered that desperate courage which love of life and unavoidable danger give to the most timid. But whether because the feeble light of the lantern did not allow him to measure his blows accurately, or because the fright he had experienced had taken away all his presence of mind, I found this terrible duellist pitifully weak. I was so determined not to slaughter him that I spared him a long while. At last he threw himself upon my sword, when trying to feint, and spitted himself up to the hilt. "Justice! justice!" he said as he fell. "I am murdered!" "You demand justice and you obtain it," I replied. "You die by my hand as Henryet died by yours." He uttered a dull roar, bit the sand and gave up the ghost.