one of the party. I was about to choose one, when Zanoni placed in
my hand the other, which, from its hilt, appeared of antiquated
workmanship. At the same moment, looking towards the prince, he said,
smilingly, 'The duc takes your grandsire's sword. Prince, you are too
brave a man for superstition; you have forgot the forfeit!' Our host
seemed to me to recoil and turn pale at those words; nevertheless, he
returned Zanoni's smile with a look of defiance. The next moment all was
broil and disorder. There might be some six or eight persons engaged
in a strange and confused kind of melee, but the prince and myself only
sought each other. The noise around us, the confusion of the guests,
the cries of the musicians, the clash of our own swords, only served
to stimulate our unhappy fury. We feared to be interrupted by the
attendants, and fought like madmen, without skill or method. I thrust
and parried mechanically, blind and frantic, as if a demon had entered
into me, till I saw the prince stretched at my feet, bathed in his
blood, and Zanoni bending over him, and whispering in his ear. That
sight cooled us all. The strife ceased; we gathered, in shame, remorse,
and horror, round our ill-fated host; but it was too late,--his eyes
rolled fearfully in his head. I have seen many men die, but never one
who wore such horror on his countenance. At last all was over! Zanoni
rose from the corpse, and, taking, with great composure, the sword from
my hand, said calmly, 'Ye are witnesses, gentlemen, that the prince
brought his fate upon himself. The last of that illustrious house has
perished in a brawl.'

"I saw no more of Zanoni. I hastened to our envoy to narrate the event,
and abide the issue. I am grateful to the Neapolitan government, and to
the illustrious heir of the unfortunate nobleman, for the lenient and
generous, yet just, interpretation put upon a misfortune the memory of
which will afflict me to the last hour of my life.