"It is Campo-Basso and his friends.

Count Calli, prepare to give the combat to this knight, whoever he may be, and God have mercy on your soul, for the day of your death is at hand." Another ripple of soft laughter came from the ladies' gallery.
"I cannot fight him," wailed Calli.

"I am suffering from a broken arm.
My horse fell with me three weeks ago, as Your Grace well knows." "When your arm mends, you must fight and prove your cause, or by the soul of God, you hang! We'll make a fete of this combat, and another of your funeral.

There shall be a thousand candles, and masses sufficient to save the soul of Satan himself.

My Lord Campo-Basso, let not the like of this happen again.