"One thing more," said Blanden, "take care of Giulia if I fall. The world will condemn her as being the cause of my death. Perhaps her artistic career may be endangered. She has no support, no friend! Everything seems to be double-faced that moves around her. Be you her friend; will you promise it me?" "With all my heart," said Kuhl. "I have made my will; the legacy I leave to her is considerable enough to ensure her a life free from care, even if she retire from the stage. Help her with good advice, but do not forget that she is almost my widow, too sacred for frivolous games, and veiled for you by this my last solemn word." Kuhl thought to himself, "Jealous beyond the grave," but he did not venture to smile, he only squeezed his friend's hand in silence. Blanden looked at the clock--it was time. All entered the carriage again, which rolled along upon creaking wheels through the snow-laden forest. On the edge of the pine wood another carriage was standing; the opponents had just arrived. The scene of conflict was a little snow-covered glade; distances were measured, and the weapons examined. Blanden knew no fear, not even fear of death, but the full consciousness of the nonentity of existence overcame him. There was nothing appalling for him in death, but something almost humiliating. It was miserable, full of thoughts which grasp a world to be hurled to the ground by a piece of rattling metal, which pierces one in rapid flight, which even an old decayed tree stem can defy; it was too wretched to lie here bedded in the snow like any crow shot down from the grey wintry sky by the sportsman's gun, so that the wings of the mind hang down paralysed and dead for evermore, like the wings of the hideous bird which just now croaked so loudly for prey and food. Lifeless lead--and instead of the agitated spirit's notes of exclamation and interrogation, that one great line which ends this chapter of life, and perhaps the whole book. And, yet, it is easy to die on a frosty, winter's day, when all life cowers, when the trees stretch their bare summits into the misty grey atmosphere, and the shroud of snow lies upon all the forests and meadows. All nature shudders, as if renouncing every happiness. But, no! One heart there is that beats anxiously for you; two eyes which already dedicate scalding tears to the dark possibility that menaces you; there, indeed, is life and happiness, and from these it is that you must part. As is the case in all moments of most supreme tension, Blanden's mind saw such pictures and thoughts pass before him with a certain rigidity, and only awoke again as Kuhl pressed the pistols into his hand. Attempts at reconciliation had not been made, the bitterness of the opponents was too great, those polite ceremonies, which had been made for form's sake, were dropped again immediately, as being perfectly futile.