Don't be afraid, if he wore a coat of mail, it would go through it, for that bullet has a steel point and would perforate a leaden door.

Come, you are not afraid now, surely ?" Makkabesku certainly felt a great stream of courage flow into his heart at the knowledge that he held in his hand a weapon which could kill the most terrible of men twice over.
"But what about your lordship ?" he enquired.
"Oh, I've got two revolvers in my pocket." And with that, gaily whistling, Hatszegi strode down the long passage and peeped into the kitchen, on his way out, to exchange a word or two with the fair young cook.
"Look ye, my daughter, have supper ready by my return, and take care not to over-salt the soup!" and then with the nonchalance becoming his station he sauntered across the bridge again into the highroad, followed all the way by the eyes of Makkabesku.--"What a gallant fellow it is!" reflected the Roumanian.
The innkeeper did not count courage among his virtues.

He was a peace-loving soul who detested the very idea of a brawl.

Even when he sat down to drink, it was always inside a room with a locked door, for on one occasion, when he had got drunk in public, the wine had instilled within him such unwonted audacity that he had got his skull broken in two places in consequence.

After that he avoided all such occasions of heroism.
For such folks who have nothing to do with firearms as a rule, there is a peculiar charm in suddenly holding a loaded weapon in their hands.
Valour and a sudden access of pugnacity combine to put them in a condition of perpetual fever.