"I want to speak to you," he said in a low voice.

I stopped behind.

The guests had departed, and we two were left alone. Sitting down
opposite each other, we silently lit our pipes. Silvio seemed greatly
troubled; not a trace remained of his former convulsive gayety. The
intense pallor of his face, his sparkling eyes, and the thick smoke
issuing from his mouth, gave him a truly diabolical appearance. Several
minutes elapsed, and then Silvio broke the silence.

"Perhaps we shall never see each other again," said he; "before we part,
I should like to have an explanation with you. You may have observed
that I care very little for the opinion of other people, but I like you,
and I feel that it would be painful to me to leave you with a wrong
impression upon your mind."

He paused, and began to knock the ashes out of his pipe. I sat gazing
silently at the ground.

"You thought it strange," he continued, "that I did not demand
satisfaction from that drunken idiot R---. You will admit, however, that
having the choice of weapons, his life was in my hands, while my own was
in no great danger. I could ascribe my forbearance to generosity alone,
but I will not tell a lie. If I could have chastised R--- without the
least risk to my own life, I should never have pardoned him."

I looked at Silvio with astonishment. Such a confession completely
astounded me. Silvio continued: