Silvio did not fight. He was satisfied with a very lame explanation, and
became reconciled to his assailant.

This lowered him very much in the opinion of all our young fellows. Want
of courage is the last thing to be pardoned by young men, who usually
look upon bravery as the chief of all human virtues, and the excuse for
every possible fault. But, by degrees, everything became forgotten, and
Silvio regained his former influence.

I alone could not approach him on the old footing. Being endowed by
nature with a romantic imagination, I had become attached more than all
the others to the man whose life was an enigma, and who seemed to me the
hero of some mysterious drama. He was fond of me; at least, with me
alone did he drop his customary sarcastic tone, and converse on
different subjects in a simple and unusually agreeable manner. But after
this unlucky evening, the thought that his honor had been tarnished, and
that the stain had been allowed to remain upon it in accordance with his
own wish, was ever present in my mind, and prevented me treating him as
before. I was ashamed to look at him. Silvio was too intelligent and
experienced not to observe this and guess the cause of it. This seemed
to vex him; at least I observed once or twice a desire on his part to
enter into an explanation with me, but I avoided such opportunities, and
Silvio gave up the attempt. From that time forward I saw him only in the
presence of my comrades, and our confidential conversations came to an
end.

The inhabitants of the capital, with minds occupied by so many matters
of business and pleasure, have no idea of the many sensations so
familiar to the inhabitants of villages and small towns, as, for
instance, the awaiting the arrival of the post. On Tuesdays and Fridays