person of the old man; the anxious solemnity of his deportment must have struck the most casual spectator! Sanin rose to meet him.
'I am your second,' Pantaleone announced in French, and he bowed bending his whole body forward, and turning out his toes like a dancer. 'I have come for instructions. Do you want to fight to the death?'
'Why to the death, my dear Signor Cippatola? I will not for any consideration take back my words—but I am not a blood-thirsty person! . . . But come, wait a little, my opponent's second will be here directly. I will go into the next room, and you can make arrangements with him. Believe me I shall never forget your kindness, and I thank you from my heart.'
'Honour before everything!' answered Pantaleone, and he sank into an arm-chair, without waiting for Sanin to ask him to sit down. 'If that ferroflucto spitchebubbio,' he said, passing from French into Italian, 'if that counter-jumper Klüberio could not appreciate his obvious duty or was afraid, so much the worse for him! . . . A cheap soul, and that's all about it! . . . As for the conditions of the duel, I am your second, and your interests are sacred to me! . . . When I lived in Padua there was a regiment of the white dragoons
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