Jealousy and revenge lent all their fury to Morano, while the superior
skill and the temperance of Montoni enabled him to wound his adversary,
whom his servants now attempted to seize, but he would not be
restrained, and, regardless of his wound, continued to fight. He seemed
to be insensible both of pain and loss of blood, and alive only to the
energy of his passions. Montoni, on the contrary, persevered in the
combat, with a fierce, yet wary, valour; he received the point of
Morano's sword on his arm, but, almost in the same instant, severely
wounded and disarmed him. The Count then fell back into the arms of his
servant, while Montoni held his sword over him, and bade him ask his
life. Morano, sinking under the anguish of his wound, had scarcely
replied by a gesture, and by a few words, feebly articulated, that he
would not--when he fainted; and Montoni was then going to have plunged
the sword into his breast, as he lay senseless, but his arm was arrested
by Cavigni. To the interruption he yielded without much difficulty, but
his complexion changed almost to blackness, as he looked upon his fallen
adversary, and ordered, that he should be carried instantly from the
castle. In the mean time, Emily, who had been with-held from leaving the chamber
during the affray, now came forward into the corridor, and pleaded a
cause of common humanity, with the feelings of the warmest benevolence,
when she entreated Montoni to allow Morano the assistance in the castle,
which his situation required. But Montoni, who had seldom listened to
pity, now seemed rapacious of vengeance, and, with a monster's cruelty,
again ordered his defeated enemy to be taken from the castle, in
his present state, though there were only the woods, or a solitary
neighbouring cottage, to shelter him from the night.
The Count's servants having declared, that they would not move him till
he revived, Montoni's stood inactive, Cavigni remonstrating, and Emily,
superior to Montoni's menaces, giving water to Morano, and directing the
attendants to bind up his wound. At length, Montoni had leisure to feel
pain from his own hurt, and he withdrew to examine it. The Count, meanwhile, having slowly recovered, the first object he saw,
on raising his eyes, was Emily, bending over him with a countenance
strongly expressive of solicitude. He surveyed her with a look of
anguish. 'I have deserved this,' said he, 'but not from Montoni. It is from you,
Emily, that I have deserved punishment, yet I receive only pity!' He
paused, for he had spoken with difficulty. After a moment, he proceeded.
'I must resign you, but not to Montoni. Forgive me the sufferings I have
already occasioned you! But for THAT villain--his infamy shall not go
unpunished. Carry me from this place,' said he to his servants. 'I am
in no condition to travel: you must, therefore, take me to the nearest
cottage, for I will not pass the night under his roof, although I may
expire on the way from it.'