"It is all a mistake! a horrible mistake!"
"You must admit, my dear fellow," said I, "that it is a very disagreeable one for me, and for you also. I narrowly escape being killed, and you have ten or a dozen holes punctured in your handsome cloak. Heavens! what a jealous set your countrymen are!"
Don Ottavio pressed my hand with an air of compunction and read the note over again without making me any answer.
"Try and see if you can't give me some explanation of all this business," I said to him. "The deuce take me if I can make head or tail of it."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"At least," said I, "what am I to do? To whom must I address myself, in this holy city of yours, in order to obtain redress against this gentleman who blazes away at people in the street without so much as stopping to ask what their name is? I confess that it would afford me much delight to be the means of having him hanged."
"Do nothing of the kind!" he exclaimed. "You are not acquainted with this country. Say nothing of what has happened you to any one. You would be exposing yourself to great danger."
"How should I be exposing myself? Morbleu, I mean to have my revenge. If I had given the ragamuffin any cause for being offended it would have been a different matter, but for having picked up a rose—in all conscience, I don't deserve a bullet for that."
"Leave the matter to me," said Don Ottavio; "perhaps I may be able to clear up the mystery. But I ask you as a favor, as a signal proof of your friend-
